The Grey Wardens of the Fifth Blight
by ShadeOfTyranny
Summary: When Duncan realized that the Fifth Blight was upon Thedas, there were many things that needed to be done in preparation. Along the way, he recruits as many Grey Wardens as he could find. Little did he know that the new Grey Wardens he found would play a pivotal role in the events to come. (Multi-Warden, All Origins)
1. The Grey Wardens

For the whole story - DISCLAIMER: I do not own Dragon Age or anything associated with it. This story is simply a fan work.

* * *

The Grey Wardens.

They are an order created to fight darkspawn, the vile creatures that appear from the depths of the earth. Created to fight back whenever Thedas is threatened by an Archdemon and thrown into a Blight. Through four Blights that Thedas suffered, each time it was the Grey Wardens that were instrumental in ending the Blight and defeating the Archdemon that caused it.

In the ages since the Fourth Blight, many have forgotten the Grey Wardens. Out of those who did think of them, most saw them as a relic of the past, an order that existed out of tradition instead of any real need.

They were wrong. And oh, how wrong they were.

When the Grey Wardens proclaimed that the Fifth Blight had begun, there were few who believed. There was little evidence besides unusually large numbers of darkspawn in Ferelden, and even among the Wardens, it was a commonly held opnion that Ferelden was nothing but a feint, a distraction to allow for the Archdemon to launch a vicious blow elsewhere.

And so, regardless of the truth, Ferelden was left to defend themselves against the darkspawn hordes, and its small number of Grey Wardens got little support from their siblings elsewhere.

Due to the small number of Wardens in Ferelnd, the Commander of the Grey in that nation attempted to recruit as many new Wardens as he could, even as he dealt with the King in an attempt to prepare the kingdom for the Blight that he believed was coming to Ferelden. Little did he know that the new Grey Wardens he found would play a pivotal role in the events to come.

This is the story of the Fereldan Grey Wardens during the Fifth Blight.

In war victory. In peace, vigilance.

In death, sacrifice.

The story begins with the first of his recruits.

* * *

There have been many stories that I've started and left to rot on my account.

I don't intend for this to be one of them, despite the huge undertaking this is likely to be. I have a personal schedule to keep, and someone to help keep me on it.

This is going to be a multi-warden story with all of the origins (with two mage origins because... well, I like the idea). For the most part, this will follow all the main story elements of the game. I intend to make some small changes, as well as doing some things that the game itself doesn't allow in terms of decisions.

Hopefully it turns out well, and is an enjoyable story to read. If not, then please leave any constructive criticism you might have.


	2. The Branded Enforcer

So here's the real Chapter 1. I'm gonna be putting these _about_ once a week. No guarantees that I will stick to that schedule, but I'm trying my best to keep to some type of schedule. These first chapters will likely average around 2k words, but I have no idea if that will remain true for future chapters or not, because I'm gonna try to end chapters where it feels natural instead of trying to make all the chapters the same average length.

* * *

She awoke to voices.

"-you think I would keep you on? I'm not gonna keep pouring gold into a sinking ship."

"Please, I… I think I've found someone, I just need more time-!"

A slap echoed out. She hurried to dress, tightening the straps of her leather armor.

"You think I haven't heard that a thousand times, you dumb bitch? Before me, you were just another duster. Now, you've actually got something, but if you don't show results soon-"

She stepped out of her room.

"I'll thank you not to talk to my sister like that, Beraht."

Beraht turned towards her. "Ah, and the great Mora Brosca awakens," he sneered. "You want me to stop talking to Rica like that, then make her get results. I've made a significant investment into her, and one way or another, I'm gonna get my money's worth."

"I- give me at least a week, please!" Rica begged. "I swear, I'm not lying! I really did find an interested noble, I- I just need time to convince him!"

Mora stared down Beraht, rage hidden behind icy eyes. "You heard her. Give her the time, she'll have her noble wrapped around her finger and you get to play uncle to the brat she eventually pops out."

The man gave a short, dour laugh. "Fine. She gets her week. But both of you pay for it if she doesn't have anything to show by then."

"Deal."

Beraht narrowed his eyes.

"And don't think you're getting off easy, duster," he sneered. "Leske's outside. Your ass is out there in five, or you won't like the consequences. Got it?"

"Aye aye, boss," she drawled. Beraht snorted.

"And to think, no one ever asks why I didn't try to make _you_ a noble hunter."

With a final sneer, Beraht turned and stalked out of the house.

Rica turned to Mora, her face cast towards the floor. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

Mora gave a bark of laughter. "Like it's nothing I haven't seen before. Beraht's been an ass, is an ass, and will be an ass for the rest of his sodding life."

Despite herself, Rica giggled, but then the brief smile gave way to worry. "Be careful, Mora. Beraht's not happy with me, and I wouldn't put it past him to take it out on you."

Mora raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't be different than normal then, would it? Beraht doesn't exactly take kindly to me." With a wild grin, she added, "Besides, there ain't any job he can put me on that I'll fail."

"If you say so," Rica murmured. "You should get going – Beraht won't be happy if you're late."

"Yeah, yeah." Mora walked through their front room, and a woman sitting at the table there stirred.

"Rica, is that you?" Mora barely looked at the woman.

"Go back to sleep, mother." Without waiting for a response, the woman walked out of the house.

There to greet her was her partner in crime – literally.

"You finally ready?" Leske asked her. "I was thinking I might have to bust in there. It'd be a chance to take a look at that spicy sister of yours."

Mora just stared at him with an expression of stone. The man coughed. "Right, well, we better get to our job. Wouldn't want to give Beraht reason to think we're not useful."

"What's the job?"

Leske snorted. "Ah, she speaks." He winced at the glare Mora gave him. "Right, the job. There's some surface merchant, Oskias. He's been holding out on Beraht – selling shipments topside that aren't making it down to Beraht. He wants us to see what goods the rotter is holding back."

When Leske just looked at Mora after he finished, she sighed. "We got a location, or is that our job to find out?"

"All I got outta him was 'find him,' so it's up to us."

"Wonderful," she deadpanned.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hello, Oskias."

It hadn't been too hard for the pair to figure out where the merchant was. Mora had simply walked up to a beggar and held a dagger to his throat. Unsurprisingly, the man was forthcoming with the information he had, which helpfully included exactly where they would likely find Oskias at this time of day.

Leske and Mora had made their way to Tapster's Tavern, and the latter had taken up a chair opposite their target.

"Hey, I was saving that seat!" The man responded, then stopped. "Wait, h-how do you know my name?"

"Oh, we know a lot more than your name, duster." Leske spoke up from his position behind the man. Oskias started, snapping his neck around to get a glimpse of the dark-haired dwarf behind him.

"W-what do you want? I don't want any trouble!"

"You're cheating Beraht." Mora didn't dance around the subject.

"I don't know what you're talking about. You probably have the wrong Oskias – I just got here, see, I'm usually on the surface-"

Leske cut in. "So you're not the turncoat, two-faced swindling duster Beraht told us about?"

"I never did anything. Beraht's got no reason to send you after me!"

"Leske. Bags."

The man chuckled. "With pleasure."

Oskias paled. "Wait! I- I do have some ore, a side deal with one of the mining families, but I swear I was going to bring Beraht his cut. I'd be crazy not to!"

"Suicidal, some would say." Leske seemed to be enjoying their job.

Mora cut off her partner's taunts. "Let's get this over with."

Leske turned and raised his voice. "Could everyone who isn't about to die turn around for a moment? This may be unpleasant. Thank you."

Their target was pale with fear, and his voice shook. "You- you can't do this. This is murder! Somebody, call the guardsmen! Help!"

No one helped. All the patrons and employees turned away, and the bartender just gave Oskias a sad look before he turned and went into the back of the tavern.

"It's just a bunch of rocks, are you really-?"

His sentence cut off, and he gave a wet cough. Oskias looked down to see a dagger in his throat and another in his chest.

Mora, for her part, drew back from leaning across the table. As she did, she grabbed the mug of ale in front of Oskias and downed it.

"Sorry, salroka," Leske said to the dying merchant. To Mora, he shook his head.

"You know, for all you complain about your mother being drunk all the time, you're really not that much better. Weren't you the one to say she shouldn't lose herself in the drink?" The woman scoffed.

"My mother does nothing but drink. I drink to not think about all the shit I do for Beraht, and I still get said shit done."

"Fair point," Leske responded. "Now let's go report back to Beraht that we got this taken care of."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"…Prince Bhelen seems far more sympathetic to our interests than Trian." Jarvia, Beraht's right-hand in the Carta, was speaking to him when the pair arrived.

"Bhelen has-" Beraht cut off his response to Jarvia when he saw Mora and Leske enter. "We'll finish this later." He turned to the pair.

"It's about time you two showed up. What happened with Oskias?"

"Cheating you. And dead." Mora waved a hand at Leske, and her partner handed over the two nuggets of lyrium they had found searching Oskias and his belongings.

Beraht frowned. "The duster must have been smart enough to keep his main stash topside. Ah well. I'll send someone out to handle the clean-up – someone else, rather, since you two did a decent job taking care of this."

 _What a reward_ , Mora thought. She knew better than to react outwardly around Beraht, of course.

"Now, I've got another job for you two."

Leske grinned. "Do we get to make some other duster cry?"

"Not if you know what's good for you," Beraht growled. "This one's invisible.

"There's a Proving tomorrow, big deal for the warriors and nobles. Almost every name fighter in Orzammar is gonna be lined up for this, and I have certain acquaintances who… take an interest in this sort of thing."

"Betting," Mora said.

"There's a lot of coin to be made with so many people interested," Beraht confirmed. "Now, we don't know everyone who's going to be in this thing, but there are two names you need to know. The favored officer is named Mainar: veteran of four darkspawn campaigns, knows his stuff. More importantly, there's Everd. He's a long-shot, just got back from a Deep Roads offensive. Some young buck who has all the ladies drooling." Unnoticed by Beraht, Mora rolled her eyes and next to him, Jarvia made a face of disgust.

"I've got a lot of money riding on him. Mine and other people's. I expect to see that eight-to-one pay off, understand?"

"Aye."

"Good," Beraht smirked. "Now, the fights only get announced to the contestants themselves… in order to prevent illegal gambling. Ha! So when you get in tomorrow, find Everd and see who he's fighting when. When he's up against Mainar, you'll use this." He held up a glass vial.

"Poisoning an upper-caste. Can't say I've never imagined it." Leske rubbed his hands in glee.

"It'll only slow his reflexes, just enough to take the edge off but not enough to show. It wears off quickly, so don't use it until just before the fight," Beraht warned them.

"Anything beyond just dump it in his water?" The Carta boss grinned at the question from Mora.

"Nope. Just figure out when Mainar is fighting Everd, put the drug in his water, and hightail it out of there. Come see me nice and early tomorrow, and I'll give you two passes to get onto the Proving Grounds. As a… let's call it a pre-emptive reward, both of you dusters have the rest of the day off. Spend it wisely."

Leske and Mora both nodded in acknowledgement.

Outside, Leske turned to Mora. "Well, this should be interesting. A chance to finally go see a Proving! I've always wanted to go to one."

Mora scoffed. "Provings are just the official version of fighting rings. Stay focused on the mission tomorrow."

Leske looked at her in surprise. "What, you've never wanted to go to a Proving?"

"Why watch people who are worse fighters than me?"

With that, in Leske's opinion, rather arrogant statement, Mora stalked off to Tapster's.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next morning, Mora and Leske made their way to the exit of Dust Town after getting the passes from Beraht, along with another warning to not screw up.

"Let's be off to a Proving!" Leske grinned, obviously still just as excited as he'd been the day before.

Mora grunted in agreement, and the two made their way to the Proving Grounds. As they approached, however, they noticed a large contingent of armed dwarves making their way to the Proving as well. Oddly enough, there was also a human with them, but Mora didn't get a good look at them.

Abruptly, Leske pulled Mora to the side and turned them away from the approaching group. She glared at him, but he looked almost terrified.

"That's a noble," he hissed. "Even with passes, who knows what he would do to us if he saw two casteless slumming it around the Proving Grounds!"

They waited until the noble and his guards were well inside, then followed. The guard outside the grounds attempted to stop them.

"Turn around, brands. No casteless on the grounds," he sneered.

Leske grinned. "But we have our passes right here!" Both he and Mora held them up.

The guard went to swipe their passes to inspect them, but Mora and Leske knew better than to let go. Instead, he looked as closely as he could, and ended up pulling away with a look of disgust on his face.

"They look legitimate," the guard admitted. "Go on through, but stay to the trenches. No one, including the Grey Wardens, needs some eyesore getting between them and the fighters."

Mora threw a glance at Leske. Beraht hadn't mentioned Grey Wardens. He looked back at her, just as surprised as she was.

Grey Wardens were an order of warriors that fought against darkspawn. It was their sole directive, and as a kingdom that was threatened by darkspawn regularly, Orzammar had good relations with the Grey Wardens.

Putting it out of mind, they both walked past the guard, keeping their heads down. It didn't take them long to find Everd's room, but when they did…

"He's unconscious." Leske stared in disbelief. "He drank until he passed out."

Mora looked around at the bottles. "Probably started to keep himself from getting nervous. Kept going when it didn't help, lost sight of how much he'd drunk." Her mother did the same thing every day. It was what kept her from doing the same – she drank, and often, but Mora wasn't going to be her mother.

In a sudden bout of fury, Leske kicked the chest laying in the corner and knocked it over. "Now what the hell are we supposed to do? It's our heads on the chopping block if Everd doesn't win, but he could draw a _dead_ man for his bout and still lose!"

Mora just shut her eyes. Of course this would happen when she and Rica were on loose ground with Beraht.

"Wait a minute. Wait one sodding minute, I've got an idea!" She opened her eyes and looked at Leske, who was slowly getting a shit-eating grin on his face. He elaborated quickly.

"Look, you were just saying the other day that you're better than all the idiots in the Proving, right?"

Mora hated it when she could figure out where Leske was going with an idea. "You want me to pass for Everd."

"It'll work!" He insisted. "You're about the same size, and you shouldn't have any trouble with his armor!"

Mora thought about it. On one hand, impersonating an upper-caste meant death.

On the other hand, if Everd, or rather 'Everd', didn't win the Proving today, Beraht was going to kill her, and do Stone-knows-what with Rica.

"Fine. Help me get the armor on, we don't have much time."

"Oh, what a glorious day. I get to see the body of the wonderful Mora!"

He suddenly found a dagger below his waist. "Touch anything besides the armor and you won't have anything to work with."

Leske swallowed. "Yes ma'am."

* * *

And that's our first protagonist. Let me know what you think of her!


	3. The Noble Stone

The second chapter, and our second main character. We're still in Orzammar for the next few chapters, so here comes the Dwarven Noble.

* * *

"Greetings, my lord."

Daren Aeducan, the middle prince of Orzammar, nodded to his second. Gorim Saelac was a loyal man, and one who knew him well at this point.

"I'm afraid I couldn't find a matching dagger for your armor, but I scrounged up a rather fancy longsword." Gorim passed him the blade and sheath, and Daren took the time to properly attach them.

"Do you wish to wear your shield to the noble's feast?" Gorim continued.

"Yes," Daren responded. "Let them see me as a warrior. Is that not the purpose of today?"

Gorim chuckled in agreement. "Well said, my lord. Although if every other noble has a shield and three swords, you'll feel awfully underdressed."

"You, my friend, are ridiculous." Daren shook his head, but let a smile slip onto his face. His second shrugged.

"One can't take all this marching about and speech-making too seriously. Onto the business at hand, though. The king expects you to make an appearance at the feast, but there's no rush. The noble family heads will spend hours boring your father with petitions and petty grievances."

Daren tilted his head, and Gorim fell in step as they made their way through the palace halls.

"What of my brothers?"

"Out and about, my lord. On my here, I saw them browsing the wares of the merchants allowed into the Diamond Quarter for the day."

"Good." Gorim gave Daren a curious look, and the man elaborated. "If my brothers are out shopping, it means that we might be able to make our way to the Proving without being accosted by either of them."

Gorim laughed again. "With all luck, my lord."

They rounded a corner, and then came across an odd situation.

"My lord Bhe-! I… Oh no!" A woman had stepped out of a room, and then caught sight of Daren and his second. She immediately retreated back into the room, horror evident on her face.

Gorim frowned. "My lord, isn't that your brother's-?"

"Bhelen's room, yes," Daren responded. "Wait out here. I will discover the truth to this."

He walked into his brother's room to confront the woman. Once inside, he immediately noticed the brand on her face that signified her as a casteless, the lowest members of Orzammar's castes.

The woman immediately began apologizing. "I'm sorry, my lord. I thought you were Prince Bhelen coming down the hall. I… forgive me."

"I take it you are one of my brother's companions?"

"Yes, I… yes, my lord." Daren stared for a long moment. The woman shifted, uncomfortable with the attention.

"What is your name?" She started at the question.

"Rica, my lord. Rica Brosca. Again, I am sorry. It was presumptuous of me to think that he would return to- I am sorry."

Daren waved it off. "If Bhelen has no issue with you remaining here, I also find no issue. May the rest of your day be well."

Rica thanked him profusely, but Daren simply turned and walked out. Gorim fell into step behind him, and they returned to exiting the palace.

"She stays, my lord?"

"Aye." Daren's expression showed nothing. "As I said to her, I see no issue if Bhelen has allowed her to stay in his quarters."

"Very well. Are we off to the Proving, then?"

Daren hesitated. He should, at the very least, make sure that he wasn't needed at the feast. Gorim had been correct earlier when he said that it would be hours before the nobles finished bothering his father with their various problems. But the feast today was to honor him – should he not be there to help his father?

No, Daren was not the heir to the throne. There was no need for him to aid his father.

"We are, Gorim."

XXXXXXXXXX

Of course, things could not be simple, and Daren's trip to the Proving had multiple encounters along the way.

The first was an argument between Scholar Gertek and Bruntin Vollney. Apparently, Bruntin took issue with certain details that Gertek had published about the origins of House Vollney. Unfortunately for Bruntin, Gertek said that everything he published was recorded in the Shaperate, and Daren was not prone to disbelieve Gertek when his claims were so easily disproved.

Bruntin had stormed off, enraged by what he saw as baseless insults against his house. Gorim suggested 'eliminating' Bruntin, a suggestion that the scholar supported when Daren asked his advice.

He thought about it. The scholar did have more logic than simply to end the argument – better to eliminate a small threat before it becomes larger.

Instead, he had let the man live. Better that Orzammar have a foolish warrior in its ranks than be deprived an able body due to such a foolish disagreement.

Next had been the most… exciting of the encounters.

Both of Daren's brothers, the Princes Trian and Bhelen, had confronted him.

Bhelen had greeted him politely.

"Atrast vala, big brother! How surprising to run into you out among the common folk." Before Daren could respond, his older brother spoke.

"Especially since duty requires that you attend our king father at the feast today," he growled. "Have you so little respect for him to disregard his wishes on a day set aside for you?"

Gorim began to speak up, but Daren signaled him to stand down. He knew Trian. Being responded to by Daren's second would only make things worse.

"Lord Harrowmont made it clear that there would be a considerable amount of time before I was required to make an appearance." Trian glared at Daren.

"Simply because you are not _required_ to show up until later does not excuse you from your duties! You abandon our king father to deal with the court, when this day's celebrations are to _honor_ you." Daren narrowed his eyes at the disdain with which Trian spoke. His older brother was the heir to the throne, and therefore above him, but this would not be forgotten.

"Our king father is more than enough to deal with the court. If he has need of me, I have made no secret of my movements."

"Your lack of a sense of duty to our house is appalling. I expect that I'll spend much time apologizing to heads of noble houses for the deaths of their children under your incompetent command."

The words were meant to get under his skin, Daren knew that. He forced down his anger before it caused him to respond in kind.

Bhelen attempted to defuse the situation, but Trian responded with some tripe about "imparting wisdom and judgement upon those who need it" and once again commanded Daren to make his way to the feast.

"Father will send for me if I am needed. Until then, I will do as I wish, brother."

Trian snorted. "I'd advise you to rethink that attitude, dear sibling. Father will not live forever." With those chilling final words, he beckoned Bhelen and continued on towards the palace.

Gorim expressed his displeasure afterwards, and Daren couldn't help but inwardly agree. Trian was stepping beyond acceptable bounds, and if he wasn't careful, he would end up going too far one day and pushing someone too far.

And then Daren would be the heir apparent, and he did not need the headache that would result from that.

After the tense run-in with his siblings, the next exchange he found himself in was surprisingly pleasant. A nervous weapons merchant wished to gift him a dagger, but the messenger responsible had been thrown out of the palace by Trian. Despite Gorim's misgivings, and the merchant's foolish belief that Daren might be made king, Daren accepted the blade. It was a fine dagger, and Daren would simply take care to keep it out of sight when not in use.

Thankfully, the rest of their journey through the Diamond Quarter was uneventful. At the exit, they met a contingent of guards. The leader stepped up.

"My lord." He bowed. "Are you heading to the Proving Arena?"

Gorim, as Daren's second, responded. "My lord intends to, yes." The guard nodded.

"We have been charge with the task of escorting you to the Proving grounds. The king worried about you going through the commons unguarded. The merchants who didn't get passes to sell their wares in the Diamond Quarter…. Well, it isn't impossible that they might harass you if you went alone." Daren and Gorim exchanged a look. If there were guards set aside specifically to escort Daren to the Proving, why was Trian so insistent that he go to the Palace and aid their king father?

"Very well," Daren accepted. "We shall go immediately."

"Excuse me, but do you mind if I accompany you?" An unknown voice came from behind them. Daren turned to see a very tall man – a human – standing politely, hands clasped behind his back. A clever stance – it showed that the human had no intentions of drawing a weapon by purposefully making it more difficult for him to do so.

"And just who are you?" Gorim immediately stepped between Daren and the new arrival. His hand drifted towards the hilt of his sword.

Daren interrupted him. "Peace, Gorim. This is Duncan, Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. Given where we are headed, it is only natural he come along." His second backed down, but the tension in his stance stayed.

If the Grey Warden noticed, he said nothing of it. Instead, all Duncan said was, "I look forward to seeing the skill of your warriors. Shall we?"

"We shall." Daren nodded at the guards assigned to him, and they fell into formation around the three. The noble, his second, and the Grey Warden made their way to the Proving.

As they walked, Duncan struck up a conversation. "I must thank you for allowing this Proving to be held for our recruitment efforts. I have been told that today's Proving should have been in your honor instead of for the Wardens."

Daren smiled politely. "It is no trouble, Warden Commander. The Grey Wardens have always been welcomed in Orzammar, and to aid you in finding the best for your ranks is no sacrifice to my mind."

The Warden nodded back with a smile. "And we are grateful. There are dark times ahead of us, and the strength of the dwarves is well-known." Daren responded with his own smile, but the conversation faded out until they reached the Proving Grounds.

"An impressive building, and I look forward to seeing equally impressive fights take place within." Daren suppressed a smirk at the human's words. Duncan knew exactly how to appeal to dwarven superiority – all of the guards accompanying them had puffed up in pride at hearing a human acknowledge the greatness of their architecture and their fighters.

Out loud, Daren responded, "Indeed. There is a balcony set aside for important viewers. Shall we make our way there?" Surprisingly, Duncan frowned.

"Ah, actually, if it is no trouble, I believe I would like to spend some time in the main hall. Observing the fighters before the Proving begins may help in discovering a potential recruit."

Daren glanced at Gorim, who seemed just as confused at the man's reasoning. Was it not battle prowess that the Grey Warden was looking for? What could Duncan be looking for that would not be found in the Proving matches?

Despite this, Daren gave a wave of approval, left the Grey Warden behind, and climbed to the viewing balcony with Gorim.

"Prince Daren!" The Proving Master rose from his seat and bowed.

"Proving Master," Daren nodded back. "I look forward to today's Proving. What warriors are participating today?"

The man was surprised, but only hesitated a brief moment before reciting the names of those who were to fight in the Proving. As he heard the list, Daren frowned. There were skilled warriors in the line-up, yes, but some names he knew to be more popular than truly effective fighters. The true warriors would win those matches too easily, and the intent of the tournament was to find potential Wardens.

"Add my name to the list." Daren cut the Proving Master off abruptly.

"P-Prince Daren?" Before he could protest further, Gorim affixed the man with a glare.

"Your prince has given you an order, Proving Master. It would be in your best interest to follow that order."

Apologizing profusely, the man agreed. "Of course, my lord. I will place you into the Proving immediately. Ah, the matches will begin soon. Will you wait up here, or should I have a room cleared for you?"

"Here is fine. All I will need is water brought up here, for between matches."

"Yes, of course my lord."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Well fought, my lord."

Daren smiled at Gorim. "It wasn't much of a battle. I worry for Orzammar's future, if a warrior like that made his way into this tournament."

"Nonetheless, your fighting was very impressive, Prince Daren." Daren gave a bark of laughter at Duncan's words.

"If you thought that fight was impressive, Warden Commander, I might start worrying over the quality of your Wardens."

The polite smile on Duncan's face faded. "I assure you," he spoke with a sudden seriousness, "the Grey Warden order is as strong as ever, even if our numbers in Ferelden are low." The man's smile returned quickly. "I was simply complementing your abilities. Even with a lesser opponent, it is easy to see your prowess."

Daren nodded as acknowledgement, and the balcony's occupants fell silent as the next bout was announced.

"The next match is Everd versus Mainar!" The two warriors entered the arena and faced each other.

Daren rose from his seat, staring hard at the figures about to fight.

"My lord? Is something wrong" His second asked, brow furrowed.

Daren didn't respond at first. Then he lowered back into his seat, but continued to stare at the two combatants even as the fight began.

"I know Everd." Both Gorim and Duncan turned to stare at Daren. "Everd is young, a glory-seeker and an attention hound. A good fighter, but egotistical about it.

"Everd has his helmet on. He's using a long dagger instead of a sword. And he hasn't said a word." Duncan gasped as he realized what Daren was implying, while Gorim continued to stare in confusion until his prince's next words, spoken quietly but surely.

"Whoever that is, that's not Everd."

Gorim's hand fell to the hilt of his sword. "We cannot let this lie!"

"Wait." Gorim's eyes widened in surprise.

"My lord?"

Daren, who had kept his gaze fixed on the fighter impersonating Everd without fail, simply smiled. "Wherever Everd is, I doubt he will fall into more danger than he is in now. I wish to see what this imposter plans to do…

"And how far they will go."

* * *

Surprise!

Yeah, I decided to make the two Origins happen at the same time (for the most part). It seemed a better idea than just doing both separately, and allows for me to get through Orzammar a little bit faster.

Hopefully Daren's chapter reads differently than Mora's in a good way - the plan is to write in a different 'voice' for each main character, although who knows how separate I'll manage to keep them all.

Thanks for reading!


	4. Proving Her Worth

This is a day 'late' (according to my own weekly schedule that I want to try and keep), but whatever. We're back to Mora!

* * *

She won.

Usually, she kept a tight hold over her emotions while on the job. No matter what she had to do, if she didn't appear to be the deadly enforcer that Beraht wanted, things could get bad for her.

But now she had a helmet on, and it covered her whole head. No one could see anything except possibly her eyes, and even those were shadowed more often than not.

Looking down at the unconscious body in front of her, Mora let loose a wild grin.

Her victory (as Everd, of course) was declared, and she walked out of the arena back to 'her' room. Awaiting her inside were Everd, still passed out, and Leske. As she closed the door behind her, Leske spoke.

"Wow," he laughed. "That was damn impressive! And with someone else's weapon and armor, no less."

Mora removed her helmet, the mask returning to cover up her grin. "He didn't seem poisoned."

Leske winced.

"Look, I tried, okay? But he didn't want some casteless slumming it near his room, and he didn't leave the damn place until his fight. Not even to see the prince fight!" He threw up his arms in disgust. "I don't know what he was doing in there, but I didn't have any chance to get in there. You did well enough anyway."

She let a small smirk out. "A shield instead of a dagger made it tough, and all this armor weighs me down. But I told you before, I'm better."

Leske rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say. But just remember, you've still got two matches left. Your next match is almost definitely gonna be Adalbo. Last year's Journeyman Division champion, no way he's losing in the first round. Then it's the finals, and who knows what opponent you'll get there."

"With my luck, the prince." Leske paled.

"Don't even joke about that, Mora," he told her. "If you go up against the prince, we're _screwed_ whether you win or lose!"

"Then if it comes to it, I might as well win."

Leske just sighed. "Let's… just hope it doesn't come to that, okay?"

XXXXXXXXXXXX

 _It came to that,_ was all Mora could think as she walked into the arena for the final match.

Across from her was Prince Daren Aeducan.

"You've put on a great show, _Everd_ ," the prince told her. She forced herself not to react. As long as he didn't act on whatever suspicions he might have, she might be able to escape.

The Proving Master's voice rang out. "The final match! Prince Daren Aeducan, Orzammar's soon-to-be commander, versus Everd, an up-and-coming warrior who has shown great promise today!" Pausing to let the crowd's cheers die down, the man continued. "For the honor of Prince Daren, and for the warriors who have fought to prove themselves worthy of the Grey Wardens… Let the match begin!"

Mora carefully advanced. Normally, she would've shot forward as fast as she was capable of, but with heavy armor and a shield, that wasn't an option. Instead, she held her shield in front of her, moving towards her opponent one step at a time.

Prince Daren wasn't moving at all. He simply stood there, waiting for Mora to reach him. She barely held back a snarl. He was taunting her, and she couldn't let him get to her. Even if Everd would have fallen for it.

He hadn't said anything, but Daren knew. Mora had no proof that he did, but it was obvious in the way he was acting. The way the prince had said Everd's name, the pointed looks at the dagger she held, and even in the way he just stood there.

He _knew_.

But hell if she wasn't going to at least win before she died.

Finally, she got close enough, and Prince Daren finally moved. Both fighters started circling each other, holding their shields up to hide their movements. The crowd had fallen silent, or at least so it seemed to Mora. For all she knew, all the dwarves were screaming their heads off, but her focus was on herself and her opponent, nothing more and nothing less.

 _There!_

She moved, barely making it out of the way of a sword strike (the armor made her so _slow_ ), and her attempt to counter was easily parried.

Backing off, Mora noticed that Daren didn't even attempt to come after her, obviously taking a defensive position and letting her attack instead.

At least he was taking her seriously.

Finally letting out an angered growl (what did it matter, he already knew), Mora charged him. By the widening of his eyes, he hadn't expected her to make a move like this. But she could already see him calming, ready to react and counter her blow.

She grinned underneath the helmet, keeping her shield in front of her as she ran. Just as she reached him, she tensed as if she was going to leap forward at him – he responded in kind, raising his own shield to ward her off and create an opening for a decisive blow –

– and Mora dove past him, lashing out with her dagger and slicing Daren along the hip where there was a gap in his armor.

The crowd roared in rage. Mora knew exactly what they were thinking – _dishonorable, underhanded, using tricks to win_ – but to them, it was terrible because it was Everd, the underdog warrior caste who was pulling these moves.

Mora wondered if they'd be angrier or not if they knew it was a casteless who was attacking this way. Probably angrier. After all, then it would be a casteless assaulting their Prince with an underhanded attack.

But Prince Daren already knew she wasn't Everd, so why should she bother fighting like him anymore?

The prince twisted away, adjusting for the wound but barely showing that he'd gotten hurt. Mora raised her dagger and shield again, this time wielding the shield almost like another weapon. Both fighters tensed, readying themselves to clash again.

"I- I'm ready for my fight!" Despite the crowd, this statement was more than audible to the two combatants, and was followed by a loud hiccup.

Mora went cold. Slowly craning her neck to look at whoever spoke, her fears were confirmed, and her life crashed down around her ears.

It was Everd. Still drunk, stumbling around half-dressed, but it was _Everd._ The person she was supposed to be _right now_.

Shit.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Daren glanced up at Everd, and then focused back on the imposter he'd been fighting.

The imposter's slash at his hip had been clever, albeit dishonorable. He'd faced dirtier tricks from the darkspawn, though. Being the disgusting creatures they were, darkspawn had no sense of honor, and would attack any way they could. But the attack from the fighter pretending to be Everd had proven to Daren, without a doubt, that they were someone else.

Not that he'd needed the proof at that point, but it was more evidence for him to confront the unknown warrior.

The real Everd appearing, drunk and half-dressed, revealed the imposter to everyone in the arena and forced Daren's hand.

"Reveal yourself, imposter." He'd rather have confronted them in private, but the audience was in an uproar at the idea that someone had tried to steal Everd's identity for the Proving.

The imposter lowered their head. Daren could only assume they were realizing the futility of their situation. But then they raised their head and Everd's helmet stared directly at Daren. Slowly, they raised their hands and removed the helmet to reveal the face of a young woman. Ragged locks of brown hair fell down as the helmet came off, brown eyes were revealed…

…and the brand of a casteless was blatantly stamped on the woman's left cheek.

Dimly, Daren was aware that the arena had fallen deathly silent. The Proving Master and Gorim had risen from their seats up in the balcony, as had many in the crowd. Others were collapsed into their seats.

His own thoughts were torn.

On one hand, this casteless had sullied the Proving. Snuck her way into a tournament meant only for warriors and nobles, dishonored the Dwarven Ancestors by participating in a Proving. The warriors that participated in Provings honored their Ancestors by doing so, honored the dwarves of ages past, and a casteless fighting in the Provings was a disgrace to them.

However… this casteless had beaten two skilled warriors before him. Mainar and Adalbo were strong, and to defeat them – with what was likely a disadvantage, Daren absently noted, given the woman's discomfort with using a shield – was no small feat of ability. Not only that, but in the short amount of time they had fought, she had landed the only blow of the bout on him, once again despite her disadvantage.

A fighter of that skill, with the adaptability and talent required for that…

To sentence them to death seemed a waste.

But regardless of what he would have chosen, the choice was removed from Daren's hands.

"Seize her!" The Proving Master bellowed. "Arrest the brand for disgracing the Provings!"

The roar of approval from the guards was accompanied by their surge towards the woman who had been impersonating Everd.

She simply stood there, expressionless as she had been since she'd removed her helmet. Then, her expression began to change.

Her lips twisted upwards, and she laughed maniacally with a wild grin on her face. When the guards hesitated, surprised by the unusual response, she struck.

Throwing her shield at a guard, she ran at another and slashed at the backs of his knees. He crumpled to the ground, and the other guard stumbled backwards as the shield slammed into his helmet. The rest of the guards surged forwards, and the woman fought them with reckless abandon, taking blows on her armor in order to land her own attacks.

She took four guards out of the fight before the woman was finally subdued and knocked unconscious.

As she was dragged off, Daren continued to watch from his spot on the arena floor. He hadn't moved since the helmet had been removed.

"My lord?" The prince almost flinched from the sudden voice. He turned to see Gorim behind him, staring at him with worry.

"…Come, Gorim. We've likely kept my father waiting." Without another word, he strode out of the arena, Gorim trailing after him.

Daren paid no attention to the wound on his hip slowly leaking blood until Gorim forced him to stop and bandage it before they entered court.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mora's return to consciousness was accompanied by aching pain.

Strained muscles, countless bruises, especially on her stomach, a few scratches, and one blinding headache. Her eyes opened and, ignoring the increased pain from her headache at the light, Mora took in her surroundings.

Stone walls and floor. Some broken pieces of wood in a corner. Bars along one wall. The painful light was from a torch on the other side of the bars.

Mora knew a jail cell when she saw one, and with that realization came the memories from before she had been knocked out. The Proving, the fight against the prince, Everd appearing and forcing her to reveal herself.

"Oy, salroka!" Her head turned toward the hoarse whisper. Right next to her cell was a matching set of bars. The other cell was dark, but she was able to make out a familiar figure hunched over on the floor.

"Leske." Mora's throat was painfully dry, and her voice came out as a rasp. "Caught?"

"Yeah, they found me right after they got you. Burned three candles to the stump interrogating me about who put us up to this." He waited a moment before continuing. "And then Beraht got to them."

Mora felt a chill run through her body.

"Where-?" She broke into painful coughing before she could finish her question. Likely due to the combination of the Proving, the fight with the guards, and whatever abuse the guards put her through while she was unconscious. Mora also suddenly noticed that she was in the thin clothing she wore underneath her armor – the guards had likely stripped her of Everd's armor.

In the darkness of the other cell, she heard Leske take a breath to answer her, but the sound of footsteps approaching the cells silenced his response.

Jarvia stepped into view, and her presence confirmed Mora's suspicions of where they were. The Carta's jail, hidden and not known for housing prisoners for very long.

"Good, you're awake. Beraht will be glad to hear that." Jarvia glared at Mora.

"You caused a lot of trouble today. Beraht lost a hundred sovereigns for Lord Vollney. The entire Proving was declared invalid, and the Assembly already called for an investigation." The dark-haired woman smirked. "You can't imagine the state Beraht was in when he told me to get you." She paused, as if waiting for Mora to respond.

Instead, Leske spoke up. "Look, let us talk to him. We can explain-!"

"All he needs to know is that _she_ exposed him before the entire Warrior caste." Jarvia sneered, gesturing to Mora. "Now they're asking questions, and as long as you have tongues to answer them, you're a threat."

With a sharp grin, she continued. "Enjoy your last night together. Sorry we had to put you in separate cells, or I'd suggest you have a last tumble." Mora glared at the woman. Jarvia had never liked her, and the situation made the woman's mocking all the more infuriating.

"Beraht'll be by soon to make sure you maintain your silence." Jarvia turned around and walked away. Replacing her was a burly thug, obviously meant to guard them.

At least until Beraht showed up to kill them.

Jarvia's footsteps slowly faded away. Mora and Leske traded glances – even with a guard posted, this was their best chance to escape.

Abruptly, Mora clutched at her stomach with her cuffed hands, hunching over near the bars. She even let out a moan, her face scrunched up in a pained expression.

When the guard looked over, Leske spoke up. "What are you doing? You think Beraht wants to arrive and see one of his victims already dead and rotting with some type of plague? I doubt he'll be happy that you let some sodding sickness rob him of killing her personally!"

The Carta thug looked skeptical, but walked up to Mora's cell to get a better look at her. "Look, unless she's gonna die in the next few hours, I doubt Beraht will-"

Mora's hands shot out, her arms just thin enough to slip through the bars side-by-side, and gripped the guard's throat as tightly as she could. He immediately began to struggle, but Mora yanked him forward to slam into the cell door. The thug's head struck the bars once – twice – three times, then he stopped moving.

Dropping the unconscious – or possibly dead – man, Mora crouched down and reached through the bars near the floor. She quickly found and took the keys on the guard's belt, and used them to unlock both her cuffs and the door to her cell. Once she was out, Mora tossed the keys into Leske's cell.

"Nice work, salroka," he told her, rubbing at his wrists. "Any plan beyond getting outta this sodding place?"

"Not yet." Mora was already at a nearby chest, opening it. In it were Leske's armor and weapons. She beckoned him over, and he equipped himself as quickly as possible.

Once he was done, Leske looked over at Mora and frowned. "You gonna be okay?"

"Toss me your dagger." He did, and Mora took a moment to test its balance. "Alright, let's go."

"Without any armor?"

Mora stared at him blankly. "Only armor is that guy's," she said, pointing to the thug laying outside of her cell, "and it wouldn't fit. We come across someone my size, and I'll take theirs."

He shook his head, but Leske stopped arguing and the pair moved away from the jail cells.

They took their time moving through the Carta hideout. Neither of them had spent much time in the winding tunnels, and there were a large number of other Carta between them and the exit. Thankfully, most of them weren't exactly observant, and Mora and Leske were able to take them down before the thugs even knew they were there. The rest, they were able to sneak past. Early on, they had found a thug close enough to Mora's size, and so by the time they found an exit, Mora was wearing a decent suit of leather armor.

Mora and Leske froze when they heard Beraht speaking in the room ahead of them.

"I'm cutting the whore free," they heard the Carta leader's voice drawl. "If that freak of a sister of hers can't stay in her place, I don't need precious Rica, either."

The other two thugs made comments about wanting Rica for themselves, but Mora wasn't listening. She sprinted towards the room where Beraht was, ignoring the hissed curses coming from Leske.

"She's yours if you want her, boys! And let me tell you-!" Beraht cut himself off as Mora threw herself into the room. Swearing furiously, he and his two companions went to draw their weapons, but the casteless woman reached one of the thugs before he got his blade free of its sheath.

The first dagger ripped into the man's throat, while the second dagger – she had taken daggers along the way and returned Leske's dagger – went straight through the thug's eye and into his brain. Mora removed the blades and let the dead body collapse to the floor. Beraht and the other Carta member had their weapons out by the time Mora turned to face them.

"Don't you dare," Mora glared at Beraht with ice in her eyes, "talk about my sister like that."

"What are you doing out of your cage, whore?" Beraht growled at her. "Looks like you need to learn your lesson about how to treat your betters."

Mora gave a short, toneless laugh, and then rushed at Beraht. His underling moved to attack her, but had to dodge a dagger from Leske, who had followed Mora after her rush into the room.

While Leske and the Carta thug fought, Mora was viciously assaulting Beraht. The man had gotten to his position through violence, and he was a skilled fighter. But he was out of practice. Being head of the Carta meant Beraht wasn't getting into fights, not wanting to give anyone an opportunity to kill him.

Ironically, that meant that Mora now had the perfect opportunity to kill Beraht.

They continued to trade blows, but eventually Beraht slipped up. The Carta boss dodged one of Mora's daggers, only to literally dodge straight into the other blade. He tried to retreat, but the wound gave Mora the opening she needed.

Her daggers flashed, and Beraht fell to the floor, his throat bleeding from parallel slash wounds.

"Well ain't that sodding satisfying to see!" Mora almost jumped when Leske spoke up suddenly. "You've got to be the luckiest duster in Orzammar. Beraht's dead and we're standing here. Hail to the sodding king!"

Mora scoffed. Leske was far too excited over Beraht's death. Ignoring whatever else the man was saying, Mora moved towards the exit.

As she made her way up the steep tunnel, Leske fell in step behind her. "So, where to now?"

"I'm going to make sure Rica's okay."

Her partner-in-crime grinned. "Well, from the way Beraht was talking, it sure sounded like it. But I wouldn't say no to going and taking a look," he added with a leer. Mora's glare had less of an effect on the expression than she would have liked.

"Hey, speaking of Rica… You mind telling her I was the one to off Beraht?" At her raised eyebrow, he elaborated. "It doesn't do you any good if she thinks you're the most virile warrior in all the Stone, but me…?"

This time, Mora's glare did a much better job of cowing him. "Let's just leave before the guards show up."

Leske winced. "Good idea. Although if Beraht's got them trained like he always boasted, it should be a good long time before they show up. If they even know about any of this, anyway." He had a fair point. The guards were likely searching for the two of them in force, but the Carta hideout was fairly well hidden. Even if the guards knew that the Carta was involved, there was a chance they might not find the hideout.

The pair reached the end of the tunnel, which led out into one of the shops in the Commons. By the way the shopkeeper reacted to Mora and Leske, he was one of Beraht's men, either through threats or greed. Mora ignored him; if the man told the guards they had passed through, he'd have to reveal that he had a tunnel into a Carta hideout hidden in his shop.

Exiting through the door, she realized that the shopkeeper might have already sold the Carta out.

A full complement of guards greeted Mora and Leske upon leaving the shop, along with the Proving Master from before, an armored human, and Prince Daren himself.

Leske summed up her thoughts rather aptly.

"Well, shit."

* * *

And there we go! Mora's story is essentially wrapped up here - the very last of her origin will get wrapped up in the next chapter, and then we get to wrap up Daren's story.

I intend to skip around and summarize a lot of stuff when I finish up Daren's story - there's a lot of various things to cover, and given that most people have played the game, I feel that having them briefly "thought about" or "remembered" and then moving on should work best. Hopefully that will still read well, and not turn into boring chunks of text.

See you next chapter! Drop a review if you have anything to say - it's always nice to hear what your opinion is, even if there's a lot of stuff you didn't like in a chapter.


	5. Road to Ruins

We come back to Daren now. Lots of flashbacks and internal monologue-esque parts of this chapter - hopefully it doesn't become too tedious.

* * *

"Careful, my lord."

Daren gave his second an unamused glance, but quickly returned his attention to the tunnels around them.

The dwarven prince, his second, and a small group of soldiers – not more than half a dozen – were marching down one of the tunnels in the Deep Roads. The Deep Roads were various tunnels that stretched underneath a large majority of Thedas; perhaps at one point, the full extent of them had been known, but with the dwarven kingdom reduced to merely Orzammar due to darkspawn, only the tunnels near Orzammar were properly mapped out.

Even those tunnels were full of darkspawn, however.

"Incoming!" One of the scouts called out, and within seconds the soldiers had their weapons out and were under attack.

Daren took out three darkspawn with his axe, slamming the blade into skulls and necks. Once his enemies were finished, he ran his gaze over the rest of his group.

None of the troops were injured, it seemed. The small band of darkspawn had been small and relatively weak, which was good for their mission. Daren nodded firmly, and then raised an arm.

"Continue forward!" Weapons were hurriedly cleaned and sheathed, and Daren's troops began marching again.

As they made their way down the tunnels, Daren's mind went back to the events of the previous day, as he had been doing far too often.

" _You cannot be serious in your intentions, Warden-Commander."_

 _Duncan simply stared down the dwarven prince. "I assure you, Prince Daren, I am completely serious." Daren sighed and covered his face with a hand._

" _If you do this, you will gain the disapproval of many nobles in Orzammar," Daren warned. "The Grey Wardens will lose much respect in the eyes of the dwarves."_

 _But the Warden was unmoved. "I will take that risk, in exchange for an able and skilled recruit."_

" _Recruit?" Both Daren and Duncan turned towards the voice. It was the casteless woman, staring at them beside her black-haired companion. Daren frowned while Duncan responded._

" _Yes. While it might be unusual, I would like to extend an offer of recruitment to you. You exhibited much skill in the Proving," and here Duncan paused when the guards surrounding the two casteless growled at the reminder, "and the Grey Wardens are always in search of talented members."_

 _The woman looked at Duncan, a blank look on her face. "And if I refused?"_

" _Then I would accept your refusal," the Warden promptly responded. Then he added, "And your fate would be left up to Prince Daren and Orzammar."_

 _She smirked at that. "So be saved or die, huh?" Daren noticed Duncan frown, likely at how crudely the woman had interpreted his offer – a very generous one, in Daren's opinion, given that Duncan was sacrificing much of the goodwill towards the Grey Wardens by even offering the possibility of joining to a casteless._

" _Alright." Duncan smiled at the response and turned to Daren._

" _Very well then. As such, I invoke the right of conscription in order to recruit this woman as a Grey Warden." The Warden gave Daren a significant look._

 _Daren reluctantly ordered the guards to stand down. "She is no longer our responsibility."_

 _All of the dwarves turned to acknowledge the order, but then one asked, "What about the second casteless?"_

" _What second casteless?" The new Warden recruit asked, and everyone present turned to see that she was alone. When she found herself on the receiving end of multiple glares, all she did was stare back, expressionless._

Daren suppressed amusement at the memory. While he would have preferred to have taken the remaining casteless into custody, Daren privately found the way they had used the guards' distraction in order to let the male escape highly entertaining. Not only that, but if the guards were letting themselves be distracted by a conversation between himself and Duncan, then it was their own fault for letting the casteless criminal escape.

He was brought out of his thoughts when Gorim approached him. "My lord, we're approaching the crossroads where our scout will be meeting us."

"Thank you, Gorim." Daren nodded at his second. They reached the tunnels crossroads, various paths branching out from the small cavern. Awaiting them was a leather-armored scout that Daren recognized.

"Frandlin Ivo. I've heard many good things about you." The man looked uncomfortable with the praise.

"I could say the same, my lord," Frandlin responded.

Daren smiled, and then fell into his role as a leader. "Report."

Frandlin saluted. "There are only a few small bands of darkspawn and a small batch of spiders between us and the Aeducan Thaig. Nothing you and your men can't handle with ease."

The scout got a smile and a wave of dismissal from Daren, and joined the rest of the troops as they waited for the signal to continue onwards.

"…What do you make of this, Gorim?"

Daren's second looked at him in confusion. "My lord?"

"Have you given no thought to why we are only _now_ undertaking this mission, Gorim?" Daren stroked his beard, running his hand through the long strands. "The Aeducan Thaig has been difficult to get to in the best of times, and yet now, we are sent to retrieve the shield of Paragon Aeducan. Instead of the near army of darkspawn one would expect, instead there are only roving bands. And so the question becomes…"

"…where have the darkspawn gone?" Gorim finished the question, an expression of worry on his face. "My lord, do you think…?"

Daren abruptly turned. "I think that this is a discussion to have later. For now, we have a shield to retrieve." Raising his voice, he barked out orders. "Soldiers, we march!"

"Sir!" The dwarves under his command responded in trained unison, getting into formation. With Daren and Gorim in the center of their formation, they made their way forward.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Gorim's face was grim as he turned toward Daren. "What now, my lord?"

The journey to Aeducan Thaig had been as uneventful as expected. Outside of the small number of reported darkspawn and spiders, the day of marching had been relatively uninterrupted for Daren's troops.

Upon arriving, their good fortune seemed to vanish.

The door to the Aeducan Thaig was only supposed to open when the signet ring of an Aeducan was used as a key, and yet they found the door wide open when they reached it. They were immediately on guard, but despite being alert, most of Daren's force died when a group of fighters attacked. Their initial assault – a ballista bolt, of all things! – took out two soldiers alone.

All of the ambushers were now dead, but only Daren, Gorim, and two soldiers had survived. Frandlin Ivo was one of the two survivors, the man having proven his skills in battle.

Crouching down, Daren searched the body of the leader. Within moments, he found what he was looking for.

Gorim gasped when he saw what the prince held. "My lord, is that-?"

"Trian's signet ring, yes," Daren confirmed. "It seems Bhelen's suspicions were more accurate than I had hoped."

 _The day after the debacle with the casteless woman – now the new Grey Warden recruit – Daren was in his rooms, preparing for the excursion the next day._

 _There was a knock on the door, and an accompanying voice called out, "Brother, it's Bhelen. May I come in?"_

" _Of course." The blonde-haired prince walked in, closing the door behind him. Daren's gaze focused on his younger brother. Bhelen's brow was furrowed, and he looked far too serious._

" _Daren. I… I think Trian means to have you killed tomorrow." Daren frowned._

" _That's a bold claim."_

 _The statement earned Daren a glare. "I'm serious, brother! Regardless of his competence, Trian wants the throne, and your popularity is becoming a major threat. Between your major military support and your growing influence with the nobility, anyone with even the slightest skill in politics would have to be blind to miss the possibility that you could become king after our father."_

" _I have no desire to become king," Daren scoffed, but Bhelen shook his head._

" _And you think saying that will make you not be considered? If anything, saying something like that publically would make people think you_ do _want to be king."_

 _With a sigh, Daren covered his face with one hand. "The worst part is that I can understand why they think that, despite how wrong it is."_

" _If Trian means to kill you, there's only one way to deal with it, brother."_

" _No!" Daren barked, causing Bhelen to jump. "No matter what Trian plans, I will not stoop to his level. I will deal with his attempts, and then deal with the situation one way or another. But unless it is absolutely necessary, I will_ not _kill my own kin!"_

"My lord?"

Daren shook himself out of his darkening thoughts. "Gorim. Let us continue. We still have a shield to retrieve."

His second looked at him warily. "My lord… are you sure-?"

"We continue, Gorim." Leaving no time for a response, Daren raised his voice to order the two remaining men to follow.

Retrieving the shield was a simple matter, and within the hour, the two-day journey back to Orzammar was underway.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

As they marched through one of the tunnels that led back, Daren abruptly held up a hand to halt his companions. They all fell silent, hands going to their weapons in preparation.

In the ensuing silence, voices drifted to where they stood.

"Do we even know that this is where he'll be?"

"There have got to be better places. If we're here much longer, the rest of the army's gonna catch us on their way back."

The next voice confirmed Daren's fears.

"He'll come I trust my information – Daren will come, and then we stop his plans. Permanently."

Trian's words, faint but clearly audible, struck Daren like a blow. His older brother meant to _kill_ him in order to ensure that he became king, in order to secure the throne that Daren did not even want.

Gorim sent Daren a worried glance. In his second's face, Daren could see apprehension, but also anger – a burning desire to harm those who would threaten his lord.

Daren's own feelings were far more torn. There was anger over Trian's betrayal, without question, but he had no desire to sink to the same depths out of vengeance. But… what choice did he have, if Trian truly meant to go through with this?

After minutes of silence, Daren finally spoke.

"We will be ready," the prince ordered softly. "If he attacks… then we shall fight back with equal force."

Gorim and the other two men nodded, and they followed as Daren walked towards where Trian lay in wait.

As expected, the eldest prince and a small force of soldiers stood in the center of a small cavern. Upon sighting Daren's group, Trian frowned. His gaze wavered slightly, eyes seeming to focus on something past Daren, but with a snarl, Trian quickly refocused on his younger brother.

"To arms!" Trian roared, and his men echoed him as they charged. An arrow flew towards them from behind Daren, piercing through the neck on one soldier and slaying him instantly. Gorim and Frandlin met Trian's men with blades, furiously managing to match them despite being outnumbered.

Daren quickly lost track of his followers' battle, as he fought against Trian. His elder brother wielded his maul with skill, and with a speed that belied the size of the weapon. Taking even a single hit on his shield would likely leave his arm near-useless, and so Daren was forced to constantly dodge and stay on the defensive.

As they fought, Trian growled, "You will not take my life, nor my throne!" Daren had only a moment to wonder at what Trian meant – it was Trian who had attacked him, not the other way around – before he was forced to duck under a blow from his brother's maul.

Despite the power behind Trian's blows, and the skill with which he wielded the weapon, the inherent flaw of the maul was its weight. And as their duel continued, Trian's movement began to slow. It was slight, and against the darkspawn or a less skilled opponent, the change would not have affected anything.

But Daren was a fighter with as much skill as Trian, and taking advantage of his opponent's weakness was all too easy.

Slowly, Daren became the one attacking more often, while Trian was forced to defend more often. The younger prince's axe scored glancing blows across Trian's armor, and before long, the elder prince was too late to block an attack.

The axe fell onto a weak spot in Trian's armor, and the blade buried itself in the man's chest. Out of instinct, Daren immediately pulled his weapon back.

With a gasp, Trian fell to his knees, maul dropping from limp hands. Looking up at Daren, the eldest prince scowled.

"Even… now… you take from me… what is… rightfully _mine_." His final words said, Trian collapsed to the ground.

The eldest son of King Endrin of Orzammar was dead.

Daren absently acknowledged that behind him, Gorim and the other two men had won their fight. The prince cried out in rage and sorrow, falling to his knees besides Trian's body.

He had no idea how long he knelt, mourning his brother's death. Likely not very long, he would later think, as otherwise Gorim would have said something to rouse him. But however long it was, it was enough time for the worst possible people to find them.

Trian's absence must have worried many, because the group that arrived had King Endrin, Bhelen, and Lord Harrowmont, a close advisor of Endrin, along with a contingent of royal guards.

They all reacted with horror upon seeing what had occurred between Daren and Trian.

"What have you done, Daren?" Endrin gasped out.

Daren only stared at Bhelen, who looked properly shocked and appalled at the scene.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

He knew how things had come to this.

Daren had been brought back to Orzammar under heavy guard, along with Gorim. Frandlin Ivo and the other soldier had sworn by the Stone that Daren had ordered them to ambush Trian, and were so considered innocent.

Now, Daren sat in a jail cell. Gorim had come by earlier, telling Daren that he was exiled to the Deep Roads. Apparently, Harrowmont had argued for only exile to the surface, as Gorim had received, but the Assembly had not been convinced.

Whatever it was, he knew it would end up being something that at least took away his position as an heir to the throne.

After all, Daren doubted Bhelen would've have gone through so much trouble only to be stopped here. And he knew it was Bhelen's work.

It was Bhelen who had warned him that Trian wanted him dead. And when Daren was found over Trian's dead body, something he was sure was due to Bhelen suggesting they go search for Trian, the shock on Bhelen's face made no sense given the youngest prince's personal warning to Daren. The two men with them testifying that Daren had purposefully killed Trian were likely convinced one way or another by Bhelen.

Thinking back, Daren remembered Trian looking past him before he ordered an attack. He wouldn't be surprised if Bhelen had ordered one of the two to perform some action and make it seem as if Daren was ready to kill Trian.

Bhelen had played the two princes off each other with ease, and was a good enough actor to get away without suspicion. Soon, Daren suspected, his brother would play up his grief, convincing the Assembly to use the harshest punishment for Daren's crime.

Daren heard footsteps. He knew who it was that approached his cell, even before he looked up.

"Clever, brother, and very much unexpected. But perhaps a bit heavy-handed?"

Bhelen looked at him smugly. "Trian is dead by your hand, and you're off to the Deep Roads. Unless I go in front of those fools in the Assembly and admit to being responsible, any suspicions they might have are pointless. Officially, I am the last living son of the King." With a smirk on his face, Bhelen added, "And no matter how skilled you are, that will likely be true unofficially before long."

"So confident, Bhelen." Daren's face was a mask of stone. "You must have been planning this for some time. Are your allies in the Assembly bought, blackmailed, or tricked?"

As Bhelen responded, Daren realized his younger brother must have dismissed the guards. The man was revealing too much for there to be anyone else present.

"A combination of all three, of course, with some actual alliances scattered among them." With a shrug, the blonde prince admitted, "My views on the usefulness of the casteless won over the few radicals among them, at least."

The two fell silent.

"Why did you come here?" Daren's exhaustion – from Bhelen's betrayal, from Trian's death, from the knowledge of his fate – was audible in his voice.

Bhelen hesitated, but answered. "You… I didn't truly wish you dead, brother. I didn't even really want Trian dead, no matter how much he would have made a terrible ruler

"But both of you were in the way of my path to the throne." Bhelen's voice had gone cold, all emotion gone. "And that, I will not allow."

Daren's anger simmered. "And so manipulating us, manipulating _your brothers_ to their deaths, was your only recourse?"

The answer chilled him.

"Whatever it takes I will not hesitate to do whatever is necessary. I _will_ rule Orzammar, and raise it back to glory. By force, if I must." With that declaration, Bhelen turned and walked away. Before he reached the exit, the man stopped.

"For what it's worth, I hope your death is as painless as possible, Daren."

Daren was left in the darkness of his cell, furious.

There was nothing Daren could do to stop his bro- Bhelen. But he would not, _could not_ , simply let Bhelen get everything he wanted.

And so Daren swore to live. Even if Bhelen now had free reign in Orzammar, even if Daren's continued life would not change what had happened, it was the most the former prince could do to spite Bhelen's plans.

Gorim had mentioned that the Grey Wardens were still in the Deep Roads, still searching for some unknown signs.

If he could not live as a prince of Orzammar, perhaps he could live under another title.

Daren smirked.

* * *

And so our time in Orzammar comes to a close... for now.

Mora got recruited (and went off with the Wardens on their venture into the Deep Roads), and now Daren is off to join them as well.

With that, we're ready to move on! ...Sort of.

Obviously we've got more origins, but I'm curious - should I put in a brief interlude before the next chapter, showing Daren and Mora with the Grey Wardens? It would make it clear where the story is off to next, and more importantly, _why_. I've done my best to come up with legitimate reasons for Duncan to be traveling everywhere he does, but with my current method of writing these chapters... Well, those reasons aren't going to be as easy to put in there.

With interlude chapters of travel in between the origins, however, I could make it really clear why Duncan goes to where he does. Leave a review if you've got an opinion!

And as always, thank you for reading! I appreciate everyone who enjoys my story!


	6. Interlude - From Caverns to Open Skies

Well, this is a day (and some) later then I had planned.

I blame Fire Emblem Fates - I just got it recently, and have been playing it pretty much non-stop since. So hopefully this doesn't feel too rushed. I'm hoping to come back and edit this (and probably the next chapter) once I'm done with the Fire Emblem craze.

* * *

Mora was a casteless thug, and a former enforcer for the Carta, forced to fight and bleed for herself and her family. Daren was a former prince, raised in a palace and both a skilled mercenary commander and a charismatic noble.

In their first steps above ground, their reactions made them equals.

"Gah!" Mora sank to her knees, eyes screwed shut. "How can you sodding see anything with all this damned light?"

Not far from her, Daren's eyes were open, but he was clutching at the ground, staring upward with fear. "What is this ceiling?" He muttered in horror. "Where are the walls? _What holds it up_?"

Duncan sighed, while the other Grey Wardens with him tried and failed to hide their amusement. "Mora, that light is the sun. It provides light during the day, and other sources such as torches are only used indoors and at night, when the sun falls beneath the horizon." The woman still looked confused, but kept silent, to Duncan's relief.

"As for your questions, Daren, there is no ceiling, and therefore no need for walls. It is the sky – the open space above the ground. It is not dangerous, and there is no need to fear it." Once he overcame his initial panic, the former prince visibly attempted to regain his dignified demeanor, and gave a slow nod at the explanation.

In order to allay their curiosity, Duncan told the two dwarves, "There will be time to answer all of your questions later, but we must begin our journey soon. Let us get moving, and I, along with the rest of the Wardens, will be happy to explain the many differences on the surface to the both of you."

Mora gave a sharp nod, falling in with the rest of the Grey Wardens due to what Duncan assumed was a habit of immediately following orders. Daren, on the other hand, frowned and stepped forward as if to keep questioning the Warden Commander. Before he spoke, however, the ex-prince seemed to remember his new role, and instead followed Mora's lead.

Duncan sighed. He was no fool – the dwarven warrior was accustomed to being a leader, and it would take time and effort before Daren started to accept that Duncan was his superior, not an equal as he had been before.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After a long day's march, the party of Grey Wardens stopped for the night. Daren, used to marching through the Deep Roads, had little trouble keeping up. When the group began setting up a sparse campsite, he joined them and helped where he could.

Mora, on the other hand, had no experience with intensive traveling. She collapsed to the ground the moment Duncan called for a halt, and was breathing heavily even after everyone else had set up camp.

"If you were having trouble keeping up, there was no need to force yourself. Our current mission may be important, but it is not so urgent that we cannot spare the time to go at a more comfortable pace." She looked over to see her new commander standing nearby. "None of us would think any less of you – many Wardens had endurance similar to yours when they were first recruited, if not worse."

She grunted. "I won't slow us down. I'll get used to it and I'll keep up, Commander."

Duncan sighed, but didn't push the issue. "If you ever get to a point where you are truly having trouble keeping up, I insist that you bring it to my attention so that we can travel at a more comfortable pace." Seeing Mora narrow her eyes at what she saw to be coddling, Duncan reluctantly added, "Since it seems I must, that _is_ an order."

She scoffed, but nodded in acknowledgement. Satisfied, Duncan moved away to where the other Wardens were discussing a schedule for the night watch. Mora sighed, leaning back to fully lay down on the ground. It felt odd, with this 'dirt' and 'grass' underneath her instead of solid stone, but Mora was determined to get used to it. She refused to be less than the others, and learning to deal with the oddities of the surface was just one more challenge.

"Will you be having any more trouble with marching?"

' _Now this will be interesting._ ' Mora turned her head to face the other dwarf.

Daren was standing stiffly a small distance away from where Mora lay on the ground. To Mora, who had spent the majority of her life as a member of the Carta, his discomfort was more than obvious.

The one thing Mora couldn't get was why, exactly, the ex-prince was talking to her at all.

"I'll keep up," she told him. "No need for the prince to worry himself over me. Oh, wait, _former_ prince. My bad."

Daren clenched his jaw in anger. "I will make sure not to do so in the future, then. Good night, _brand_." Spitting out the insult, he spun on his heel and stalked off to the other side of camp.

One of the Grey Wardens approached Mora. "Was there really a need to antagonize him? Like it or not, you're probably going to be dealing with him a lot in the future."

"How much do you know about Orzammar?" She asked, knowing the answer already.

"Not much," he confirmed.

Mora gave him a blank stare. "In Orzammar, I'm not a dwarf. I'm a casteless. And he was a noble – one of the sodding _princes_. So making sure he remembers that we're equals now? Worth getting him angry."

The Warden scratched his head. "Can't say I understand it, but just make sure you two can work together, okay? New recruits tend to get grouped together for a fair bit after the Joining."

"Joining?" Her eyes narrowed. This was the first Mora had heard of anything like that.

"The Joining is your initiation into the Wardens, and the exact details are kept secret for a variety of reasons."

Paling, the man that was talking with Mora turned around to find Duncan looming behind him.

"Marcus, I believe you were needed?" The Warden Commander's tone didn't change, but Marcus nodded and scrambled off as if Duncan was Beraht in a foul mood. "I understand your curiosity, but I promise that things will be revealed in due time, Mora. I must ask that you remain patient until we can fully initiate you and Daren into the Wardens."

The dwarven woman nodded, but once Duncan walked away, frowned. ' _What was so secret about this Joining that even Warden_ recruits _can't be told about it?_ '

XXXXXXXXXXXX

After his failed attempt at checking on Mora, Daren was stewing on the other side of camp from the casteless woman.

His inquiry had been meant as a way of trying to at least become acquainted with the woman. Even if they came from very different backgrounds, Daren knew that they would be forced to work together as Grey Wardens. From what little he had learned about the Wardens before, there were usually not a terribly large number of them, and Duncan had indicated that the numbers in Ferelden were low.

Not to mention that dwarves were not often Wardens, and the others might assume that the two of them would work well together due to a shared 'heritage'.

Ridiculous, but Daren had heard of ideas with worse logic behind them being thought clever.

"Daren." Duncan's voice greeted him, and Daren turned to face the man.

"Commander Duncan." Daren nodded at the man, who gave a small smile.

"I hope that you are not having too much trouble adjusting to the idea of life as a Grey Warden," Duncan began carefully. "My beginning as a Warden was a similar change in status, albeit more along the lines of our other recruit."

Daren smiled despite himself. "Were you not the one telling me, I might not believe that." His response managed to get a brief chuckle out of Duncan.

"I assure you, it is true." Becoming serious, Duncan reached out a hand to grasp the dwarf's shoulder. "If you find yourself having difficulty adjusting to the idea of being a Grey Warden, I will be happy to listen to your troubles when I am able."

Perhaps it was how accepting Duncan was, but Daren surprised himself with his response. "As kind an offer as that is, no. I think that being a Warden suits me more than my position as a prince did. I look forward to serving under you, Commander Duncan." Daren clenched his fist and pressed it to his chest in a salute.

Duncan seemed as surprised as Daren, but grinned. "And I look forward to having your support, Daren. I foresee your skills helping us greatly in the future."


	7. Growing Pains

"Wake up… Naaalia… Wake up, sleepyhead!"

Nope.

"Come on, rise and shine!"

Nuh-uh.

"Alright, you leave me no choice. Wake UP!"

The comforting warmth vanished, replaced by chilly air.

"Whyyy…"

Nalia Tabris groaned, curling up in a desperate attempt to keep some of her previous warmth.

"Come _on,_ Nalia, it's time to get up!"

Nalia opened her eyes to see her red-haired cousin scolding her, hands on her hips.

"But Shianni, I'm _tired_ …"

The girl huffed in annoyance. "How can you be so lazy? It's the day of both your _and_ Soris's weddings, you should be excited!" Nalia just groaned, earning herself another glare from Shianni. "Besides, your father wants to talk to you before your husband arrives."

"Not my husband yet," Nalia muttered, rolling out of bed reluctantly. With a yawn, she rubbed at her eyes, long blonde hair messily falling over her face.

Shianni giggled. "Better not let your _future_ husband see you like this," she teased.

Rolling her eyes, Nalia didn't deign her cousin's comment with a response. Thankfully, the girl left and let Nalia get ready for the day in peace.

After she was dressed and prepared, Nalia shuffled out to the main area of the house. There, she found Cyrion sitting on a chair, calmly waiting. When her father realized she was ready, he stood to face her.

"Ah, my little girl." Nalia rolled her eyes, but still smiled. No matter how much she disliked being called that, it showed her father loved her.

Cyrion's smile became wistful. "It's… the last day I'll be able to call you that. Oh, how I wish your mother could have been here!"

At that, Nalia gave a sad smile. "I do too, Father."

"Ah, but that reminds me… I think it would be best _not_ to mention your mother's training to your betrothed."

"Why not?" It burned her, the idea of purposely hiding something she was good at, _the_ thing she was good at.

Or rather, the idea of hiding it from a fellow elf. The very reason that Nalia's training had been secret was due to the laws the forbid elves from carrying weapons. Despite that, her mother had taught her how to wield all variety of blades, using discarded swords and stolen knives. Swordplay, knife fighting, throwing knives – Nalia had learned them all from her mother's tutelage.

"Nalia…" Cyrion sighed. "I know you are proud of your talents. But we wouldn't want to cause trouble. Your mother made that mistake. And she paid for it with her life," he finished, voice having grown quiet and sad.

If it had been anyone else who had said those words, Nalia would have snapped at them with rage at bringing up her mother's memory in such a way. But the girl knew that her parents had loved each other dearly.

"I understand, Father." And Nalia did. As much pride as she took in her skills, her father just wanted her to be safe and happy. Revealing her talents with weapons to her fiancé would only complicate matters.

Cyrion reached out to Nalia and she hugged him, both holding each other tightly. "I love you, my daughter," he told her softly. As they separated, his mood seemed to brighten. "Now, go find Soris and make sure he's ready. That boy is almost more resistant to the idea of getting married than you!"

Rolling her eyes, Nalia gave a casual wave of acceptance and walked out of the house. Just before she left, the girl turned and gave Cyrion a loving smile.

Outside of the house, Nalia shifted uncomfortably in the dress she wore. The elven tailors did their best with what they had, but her wedding clothes were still tight and somewhat scratchy. Looking around, Nalia quickly found Soris standing near the Venedahl, the great tree in the Alienage.

The Venedahl was mostly kept around out of tradition, and even Nalia had no idea what it was truly supposed to signify, except possibly that all elves lived freely with nature at some point in the past. Regardless of the reason for its existence, the tree was a slice of nature and beauty in what was otherwise a slum, and for that, Nalia appreciated it.

"Soris!" Nalia waved, and her cousin turned to wave back with a nervous grin.

"Hey, cousin." Soris looked just as uncomfortable in his wedding clothes as Nalia did, tugging at his collar and attempting to smooth out wrinkles periodically. "You ready for… today?"

Nadia's happy demeanor faded slightly. "I guess so," she replied. "It is an important event."

"Yeah," Soris agreed. Despite their words, neither were particularly enthusiastic. They fell into an awkward silence until Shianni bounded over to them in excitement.

"What are you two doing?" Nalia and Soris exchanged confused glances. Shianni scoffed. "Your fiancés are already here, and you two are just standing around!"

Nalia gaped at her cousin, speechless.

"They- they're here _already_?" Soris was in a similar state, although he apparently was at least able to talk.

"Yes! The trip went smoother than expected, so they're here now!" Shianni grinned at the two, but the grin faded as they continued to stand there in shock. "What are you waiting for? Stop dilly dallying and go meet them!"

Not giving the pair any time to come up with excuses, Shianni planted one hand on each of her cousins' backs and propelled them towards the entrance to the Alienage. Before Nalia or Soris could realize what was happening, they were staring at a pair of elves standing in the middle of the path.

"Soris, Nalia, meet your fiancés, Valora and Nelaros!" Shianni introduced them, grinning in delight.

For a moment, the four of them stood there, looking at their respective future spouse. Before any of them said anything, Valora was roughly grabbed by the arm from behind.

"Ah!" The woman gasped out in pain, and Nalia saw the human who was holding Valora's arm in a vice grip.

"It's a party, isn't it? Grab a whore and have a good time," the blonde man sneered to the small group of other humans behind him. When Valora struggled and tried to escape, he let go of her. She staggered away, and he laughed, turning to face Shianni. "Savor the hunt boys. Take this little elven wench here – so young and vulnerable…"

"Touch me and I'll gut you, you pig!" Shianni spat, fists clenched at her sides.

Nelaros attempted to calm down the situation. "Please, sir! We're preparing for weddings!" The human didn't seem to even notice that Nelaros existed. Nalia stepped forward to try and intervene, and suddenly the man's attention was on her.

"What's this? Another lovely one to keep me company?" His leer made Nalia nauseous, but she knew better than to let it show.

"With respect, perhaps it would be better for you to leave, milord." Her anger, burning just beneath the surface, thankfully went unnoticed. Unfortunately, his reaction was less than accepting.

Arrogance seeping into every word he spoke, the human asked, "Do you have any idea who I am? You dirty knife-ears should know better than to-"

But they never heard what he thought about elves, because Shianni chose that moment to shatter a glass bottle over the intruder's head.

With a groan, the man collapsed to the ground, and his companions rushed over to where he lay unconscious in the dirt.

"Are you insane? This is Vaughan Kendells, the arl of Denerim's son!" One of the men yelled at them, and all of the elves' faces paled at the news.

Shianni stepped back in horror, hands raising up to grip her head. "W-what? Oh, Maker…" When Vaughan's group looked as if they were ready to attack the red-haired elf for her actions, Nalia stepped in.

"Look, things got out of hand, but it would be best for you to return home. We have no wish to cause trouble."

Her attempts at calming them down didn't seem to work. One of the other men replied, "You've got a lot of nerve, knife-ears. This'll go badly for you." Thankfully, despite their words, the humans just grabbed Vaughan and left without trying anything else.

"Oh, I really messed up this time," Shianni groaned, watching the men carry the noble out of the Alienage.

While Soris reassured Shianni, Nalia went over to the two new arrivals and made sure they were okay.

"We're fine," Valora smiled at her. "A bit shaken up, but… well, this kind of thing isn't too shocking. We just didn't quite expect it this soon."

Nelaros turned to face Nalia, and suddenly her stomach was tying itself into knots. "Thank you for helping to defuse the situation, Nalia."

For what felt like the first time in her life, Nalia stuttered her way through her words. "Ah, I- I didn't do much. If Shianni hadn't knocked that shem out, I don't know what would've happened."

"Well, however it happened, I'm glad he's gone. We wouldn't want him interrupting the big day, yes?" Nelaros smiled nervously at Nalia.

"Ah, yes…" She smiled back. Nalia looked away for a moment to regain her composure, and noticed that Valora had gone over to talk to Soris. The pair of them seemed just as nervous as Nalia and Nelaros were.

"Are you nervous?" The sudden question took Nalia by surprise, and it took her a moment to respond to the question.

"A little," she admitted shyly. "But… less so, now. After all, we got to bond over driving a rude shem away, didn't we?"

Her comment got a laugh out of Nelaros. "I guess we did. Hopefully after today, there's not much more bonding in that way, and more getting to know each other calmly."

"No promises," Nalia grinned at her husband-to-be. As she did, the girl realized that she was barely nervous for the upcoming marriage at all anymore.

A moment later, she was nervous about something else entirely.

"Nelaros," she said in a low voice. "Go warn my father or the Elder. If you don't know who they are, find Soris and tell him."

"Nalia?" He asked worriedly. "What's the matter?" Nelaros turned towards whatever Nalia was looking at and gasped.

"It's another human," she confirmed, "and this one is armed. I'm going to try and get him to leave… one way or another."

"But-!"

Nalia didn't let him argue. "Go get help! If things go bad, I'll need it." Not waiting for a response, she quickly walked over to where the unknown human was standing and looking around idly.

"Good day," the dark-haired man greeted her. As she watched him suspiciously, the armored man continued. "I understand congratulations are in order for your impending wedding."

Shock, fear and anger all sprung up within her, but Nalia didn't let any of those emotions show. "What business do you have here, human, and how do you know of my wedding?"

The man smiled.

Hours later, Nalia was walking up to the wooden stage built specifically for the weddings.

The human she had confronted hadn't come into the Alienage to cause problems the way Vaughan and his men had before him. Nalia had never figured out what Duncan, the armored man who was apparently a Grey Warden, wanted in the Alienage, but when Soris and Nelaros had arrived with Elder Valendrian, the elven leader had vouched for the human.

Duncan had gone off with Valendrian to talk, and Nalia had been swept away by Shianni and the other women in order to get prepared for the wedding.

Now, though, Nalia was thinking of nothing but Nelaros and the wedding that was about to occur.

She stood next to Nelaros, and the pair of Soris and Valora stood on the other side of the Revered Mother who was officiating the ceremony. Revered Mother Boann was human, of course, as all members of the clergy were, but she came down to the Alienage anytime a wedding was planned and performed the ceremony for elven couples.

As Valendrian gave a speech before the weddings truly began, Nelaros leaned towards Nalia.

"I know we just met," he whispered, "but I promise that I'll spend every waking moment learning to make you happy."

Tears sprung to Nalia's eyes, and she had to focus on not letting herself start crying at her own wedding. Nelaros had said it himself – they had just met – but Nalia felt that she truly would be able to come to love this man and spend her life with him.

"And I you," she whispered back.

Valendrian's short speech came to a close, and Mother Boann began the service.

"In the name of the Maker, who brought us this world, and in whose name we say the Chant of Light, I-"

A gasp from Soris cut her off, and when he shakily pointed to someone behind her, the Revered Mother quickly turned. Nalia looked as well, and her insides turned to ice.

It was Vaughan, the human from earlier, and his expression didn't bode well.

"Sorry to interrupt, Mother, but I'm having a party and we're dreadfully short of female guests." The noble let out an ugly laugh, walking up to Valora.

"Milord!" Mother Boann's voice was full of disapproval. "This is a wedding!"

Vaughan let out a bark of laughter. "If you want to dress up your pets and have tea parties, that's your business," he sneered, placing a hand threateningly on Valora's shoulder. "But don't pretend this is a proper wedding."

Everyone present was staring at the noble with some combination of fear and anger at this point, but Vaughan seemed unfazed. "Now, we're here for a good time, aren't we boys?"

His men snickered, and Nalia was terrified to see that one of them had gotten behind the bridesmaids. "Just a good time with the ladies, that's all."

"Now, let's take those two," Vaughan waved a hand at the bridesmaids, "this one in the tight dress," his grip on Valora's shoulder tightened, "and… where's the bitch that bottled me?"

"Right here, milord!" Another one of the humans had gotten to Shianni, and was twisting her arm behind her.

Over the sound of her swearing protests, Vaughan gave an ugly laugh again. "Oh, I'll enjoy taming her. And let's see the other pretty bride…"

Nelaros stepped in front of Nalia. "I won't let them take you," he told her, but Nalia was more scared for him than herself.

"Now, I'm sure we all want to avoid further _unpleasantness_ ," Vaughan said with a smirk, turning to Nalia.

Ignoring Nelaros's hissed insults, Nalia stepped past him. "I won't let you hurt anyone."

"Oh, I don't plan to _hurt_ anyone. After all, this is a party, isn't it?" Vaughan snorted. "We're just going to have some fun."

Nalia was so busy staring Vaughan down that she didn't notice where his other men were.

The last thing she heard was Nelaros calling out for her, and then everything went black.

* * *

Sorry for the late chapter again!

Fire Emblem Fates was (is) still something that I'm a little obsessed with, but I've now finished both of the main paths, and the third path won't be available for me until Thursday. That gives me a bit of time between now and then to put in a good amount of work on the next chapter after this, and hopefully I'll make some time to ensure I get the next chapter finished ahead of time. After next week, I swear I'll get back to having these done ahead of time and up when I actually want them to be.

Also, this chapter gave me some trouble. The Nalia that I have in my head is all post-Origin, so writing her this way feels weird. Plus, the City Elf origin's first half just feels awkward for me to write for some reason, so I had to work to try and not let that seep into my writing.

Regardless, I hope this chapter is still a good read.


	8. Escaping the Cage

Nalia woke up, and immediately bit back a cry of pain.

Her head was throbbing, and for a moment she had trouble thinking past the pain.

"Nalia! Thank the Maker, you're awake!" It was Shianni's voice that she heard first, and Nalia pushed past the pain when she heard the fear in her cousin's voice.

"Shianni? What's going on? Where are we?"

Her cousin's face was pale, and she kept glancing back at a door behind her. "We… how much do you remember?"

"What are you- oh… Oh no." The memories of the previous day, distant as a bad dream until that moment, came flooding back with terrifying clarity.

Shianni answered Nalia's last question. "We're in the Arl's estate. Doubt we're getting the tour," she added in an attempt at humor, but the wavering of her voice made the attempt fall flat.

Another woman leaned over, and it took Nalia a moment to recognize it was Valora. "They locked us in here to wait until that… bastard is 'ready for us'," the woman spat in disgust.

Nalia could feel bile rising in her throat at the thought, but forced it down. "Then we need to get out of here!"

"Forgive me if I don't hold my breath." Sofia, one of the bridesmaids for the wedding, responded to Nalia angrily. "The door is locked and solid, and we're unarmed!"

In the background, Nalia could hear another woman – Nola? – fervently praying, but ignored her. Shianni muttered unhappily about it, but Nalia ignored that too.

If the Maker was going to save them, he would've done it by stopping them from getting into this mess, but she wasn't going to take away someone else's hope by telling them not to pray.

Instead, she was going to find a way out of this mess. ' _No shem will touch my people like that._ '

Her companions seemed to think differently, however. Sofia spoke up again, saying, "Look, we'll do what they want, go home, and just… try to forget this ever happened!"

Before Nalia could even open her mouth to give a response, Valora added, "She's right. It'll be worse if we resist."

"So you would just… give in to the shems, just like that?" Nalia was full of disbelief, but it was quickly turning to anger. "Let yourself be violated and just try to fucking forget about it?"

"It's better than getting killed!" Valora glared at her.

"Someone's coming."

Immediately, the argument came to a halt, and all of the women turned towards to the door. Sofie was right – Nalia could hear footsteps from outside of the door, getting louder with every second.

In a low voice, she told the others, "If you see an opportunity, take it." Valora and Sofie were hesitant, but Shianni responded with a shaky nod. Nessa was still kneeling on the floor, praying.

The door opened, and a group of armored guards swaggered in.

"Hello, wenches," the man leading the group sneered at them. "We're your escorts to Lord Vaughan's little party." The urge to be sick rose again, but Nalia ignored it. She had to focus fully on finding a way out of this hell.

Suddenly, Nola stopped muttering prayers, and stood up.

"Stay away from us!" The black-haired girl shrieked, and then tried to charge past the guards.

"Nola, NO!" Nalia screamed, but it was too late. As soon as Nola had started running, the guards had drawn their weapons.

The other girls gasped and shut their eyes, turning away from the sight, but Nalia just watched in horror as the elven woman she knew collapsed to the ground, lifeless and bleeding.

As if nothing had happened, the lead guard gave orders to his men. "You, grab the drunk. Horace and I will take care of this one," he waved angrily at Nalia, "and the two of you can take the homely bride and the little flower cowering in the corner."

As the men approached Nalia, she trembled with rage. Without thinking, she threw a punch at the lead guard's face, only for him to catch her fist in his gloved hand.

"Now, now," he leered, "no need for violence. Prince Vaughan wants _you_ the most."

This was followed by a blow to the stomach. The scream that had been building up in Nalia's throat died with her lost breath, and before she knew what was going on, Nalia had her wrists bound, her mouth gagged, and was being dragged through the halls alongside Shianni.

Nalia managed to catch Shianni's eyes, and realized that her cousin was just as horrified as she was. For the first time in what felt like forever, tears welled up in Nalia's eyes.

Everything began to blur together, and Nalia's breaths came fast and shallow. Everything was spinning, and she could barely tell when the guards came to a stop. Nalia felt herself get thrown against the floor, and looked up.

Vaughan Kendells stood above her and Shianni, leering down at them.

"Oh good, you managed to bring my two favorites of the bunch." Nalia heard the words but they felt like they were coming from a distance. Vaughan kept talking, but nothing else was coherent to the bound woman. Even when the man began to move towards her, nothing felt real. It was as if she was watching everything happen to someone else in a dream.

Nalia heard Shianni screaming her name as the woman was escorted into another room, but wondered why.

Then a door slammed open, and two new voices screamed her name.

With a jolt, Nalia came back to herself, and she saw the noble, the _shem_ , standing over her.

She snapped.

They had made the mistake of leaving her legs free, assuming that gagging her and binding her hands was all that was necessary. And now Vaughan and his guards were all staring at the two people who had just entered.

Nalia lashed out with one foot, catching the arrogant shem in the face and sending him tumbling backward off of the bed. Both of the guards went to him, and the two people who entered rushed over to Nalia.

"Nelaros, hold them off! I'll free Nalia!" The voice sounded familiar, but Nalia's mind didn't recognize it until Soris's face hovered over her, a dagger sawing away at the ropes holding her wrists together. "It'll be okay, Nalia, we're getting you out of here."

"Soris…" Nalia gasped out. The ropes snapped, and her cousin dragged her off of the bed.

"Quick, we have to help…" Soris trailed off in horror, and Nalia looked to see what had caught Soris's attention.

Vaughan. His sword out in front of him. Nelaros. Run through by Vaughan's sword.

"NO!" It took Nalia a moment to realize it was her own scream.

The arrogant human noble turned to face them, fury written on his face. "You brought this upon yourselves," Vaughan snarled. "If you just hadn't resisted, you could have all gone home and lived the rest of your pitiful lives. But instead, you're all going to die here!"

"Soris," Nalia said with an eery calm. "Hand me your sword." Her cousin didn't say anything, shakily handing over the blade. She looked vengeful, the torn white wedding dress adding to the image instead of

Everything that had happened filled Nalia with rage. The crimes against morality that Vaughan had committed, the terrible acts he had tried to do with herself and the other women, the _murder_ he had just committed against Nelaros.

Nalia screamed and charged, and the world bled red.

When her rage faded, the mutilated body of Vaughan was scattered on the floor of the room. His sightless eyes stared back into Nalia's.

A hand on her shoulder caused her to flinch. "Nalia," Soris said softly. "We need to get out of here."

"Right," she whispered back.

* * *

"I take it your mission was a success?"

Nalia flinched at the question from Duncan as their group entered the Alienage. The man was standing not far from the entrance, and had approached the moment they arrived. Only when Soris leaned towards her did Nalia realize she had also unconsciously moved towards her cousin.

"Duncan was the one who gave Nelaros and I our weapons," Soris whispered. "Without him, we… we wouldn't have been able to get in there." Louder, he replied, "We got them back, but… not without loss."

Valendrian and Cyrion rushed over the moment they noticed Nalia and the others return. "Is everyone okay?" Valendrian asked. While Soris filled the Elder in on what occurred, Cyrion went to Nalia.

"Are you alright?" He looked at her worriedly, and Nalia couldn't even muster up a smile for her father.

"…No. Not now." Normally, she would have lied. Told him she could deal with it. But with what happened with Vaughan, with what she almost went through and what she did to the shem…

She couldn't pretend things were okay.

"Oh, my little girl." Ignoring the ripped dress she wore and the still-wet blood that stained it, Cyrion wrapped his arms around Nalia.

She shut her eyes tightly. "I will be, eventually." Nalia felt his hug tighten around her.

After a few moments, they broke apart. Nalia looked around, noticing that the other women had made their way back into the Alienage. That was good. It meant that Nelaros hadn't… He hadn't died in vain. Her fiancé hadn't just died for her sake, but to save the other women from Vaughan as well.

For a moment, it felt like things were going to be okay.

But then Valendrian and Duncan brought reality crashing back down around their ears.

"If what Soris says is true, the guards will be here any moment." The Elder's face was grim, and Nalia bit her lip. Now that it was said out loud, there was no surprise. It made sense, but for some reason the idea that her actions had consequences hadn't occurred to her.

Duncan stepped forward. "With a noble dead, the guards will be forced to find someone to blame. It seems likely that they will be aware that an elf was responsible, and if no one comes forward…"

"It will turn into a witch hunt," Nalia spoke up. She heard Soris gasp, and her father sucked in a breath. But she knew what had to be done.

"Soris, go and hide. Father… you should, too. Vaughan's… the blood on my dress got onto your clothes." Before she even finished talking, both of the men were shaking their heads.

"Nelaros and I were the ones who came to rescue you. If anyone should take the blame, it should be me!"

Cyrion placed both of his hands on Nalia's shoulders. "I failed to protect you once today. I won't do so again." Desparately, Nalia looked at Duncan and Valendrian for help. Fortunately, both men understood and intervened.

"Cyrion, you will do no good by going with your daughter. If you take responsibility for this crime, all you will do is add one more name to the list of those who have died today." Despite Valendrian's words, Cyrion stood firm, refusing to leave Nalia.

Duncan's words had more of an effect. "If Nalia is the only one to be found guilty of this crime, I may be able to save her." Both Cyrion and Soris turned to look at the human, eyes wide in shock. "However, I can only do so for a single person. Should more than one person be found guilty, I cannot save them from their inevitable fate."

Where Valendrian's appeal had failed, Duncan's seemed to work. Both Cyrion and Soris nodded slowly, and the two quickly went to hide further in the Alienage. With all luck, the guards wouldn't search further when Nalia gave herself up.

Looking at the Grey Warden, Nalia finally gave a twisted smile. "Thank you for lying to them. I don't want more death on my hands." The human raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, a platoon of guards marched into the Alienage. The captain stopped in surprise at the sight of three figures waiting for him, one of whom was in a ripped and bloody wedding dress. He quickly recovered.

"I seek Valendrian, elder and administrator of the Alienage!" The words were barked out, the guard captain obviously angry. In sharp contrast, the Elder was completely calm.

"Here, captain," he replied. "I take it you have come in response to today's… disruption?"

The captain snarled. "Don't play ignorant with me, elder. You will not prevent justice from being done. The arl's son lies dead in a river of blood that runs through the entire estate! I need names, and I need them now!"

"And you shall have them," Nalia said in a weak voice. Clearing her throat, she stepped forward. In the silence that followed, she spoke in a strong voice. "I am the one responsible."

All of the guards looked at her in disbelief. The captain took in her appearance and scowled. "You expect me to believe one woman did this? Specifically, _you_?" Nalia froze in fear. No, they had to believe her. Soris, and her father, they couldn't get caught. She had to protect them.

"We are not all so helpless, captain." Valendrian's words were not subtle, and the captain shot the man a glare before turning back to Nalia, who sagged in relief.

"You save many by coming forward," the captain told her. "I don't envy your fate, but your bravery is to be admired." To his men, he ordered, "This elf will wait in the dungeon until the arl decides her fate. Let's go!"

"Captain. A word, if you please?" Surprisingly, Duncan spoke up and addressed the guard.

"What is it, Grey Warden? The situation is well under control, as you can see." The captain seemed none too happy about the interruption, but held up a hand to stop his men.

Duncan nodded in acknowledgement, but continued. "Be that as it may, I hereby invoke the Grey Warden's Right of Conscription. I remove this woman into my custody." The guard captain gaped at the dark-skinned man.

"Son of a tied down-! Very well, Grey Warden. I cannot challenge your rights, but I will ask one thing; get this elf out of the city. _Today_."

"Agreed."

The captain nodded. "I need to get my men on the streets before this news hits. Move out!" All of the guards turned, quickly making their way out of the Alienage.

That left Duncan, Nalia and Valendrian standing alone. Nalia, who was in disbelief, turned shakily to the Grey Warden.

"Do you mean it?" Duncan smiled at her.

"I do. As of this moment, you are a Grey Warden recruit, and cannot be held responsible for any actions you took prior to your recruitment." As Nalia teared up, Duncan added, "In fact, I actually came here today in an attempt to recruit you. There is a Blight coming, and the Grey Wardens need as many members as we can get."

"Thank you." The words were whispered, but Duncan heard them and smiled. "Thank you, thank you." Tears streamed down Nalia's face, and when she looked over at Valendrian, she saw tears in his eyes as well.

"I must admit, Duncan, I did not want you to recruit Nalia before. But now… Now I am nothing but grateful that you have done so." Valendrian reached a hand out to Duncan, and when the Warden shook it, the Elder clasped Duncan's hand with both of his. "You have saved a woman I think of as family, and for that, I cannot thank you enough."

"I accept your thanks, even if I will admit that my motivations are not entirely pure." Duncan turned to Nalia. "Now, I can only give you a short time to say goodbye to your family and friends, I'm sorry to say. If we want to be out of the city before nightfall, our departure must be soon."

Nalia could only nod, and Valendrian wrapped an arm around her shoulder. They turned, and went back into the Alienage to tell Nalia's family of how Duncan had saved her.

* * *

And City Elf Origin done!

If it's not obvious, the second half of this chapter came way easier to me. I haven't personally gone through any trauma, but… Well, let's just say I wrote the Vaughan-related parts the way I did for character reasons. I'm sorry if it reads awkwardly, but after this, everything should be much more similar to the quality of the latter half of this chapter and not the former.

This is also going up two days late, partly for the issues with the first half, and partly for other personal reasons. I will have an interlude up on time for sure next week, and with all luck (and work), I will get back on schedule!

Until next time!


	9. Interlude - The Path of Change

I'm aware that the Nalia-focused chapters felt a little light on characterization, especially when I did a better job with Daren and Mora.

The reason for that is because who she was in her Origin is going to be somewhat different than who she is from here on out. Hopefully that becomes a bit more obvious in this interlude!

* * *

The Grey Warden campsite was almost identical to the one they set up their first night out from Orzammar, as well as every night since. While the Grey Wardens were by no means similar in their personalities and habits, training and circumstance led to a rather bare camp. A single bedroll was laid out for each person, and they were all arranged close together around various campfires.

The only exception to this was Nalia. A small tent – belonging to Duncan as Warden Commander, even if he rarely used it – was set up off to the side, giving the young elven woman some privacy.

In unspoken agreement, no one complained about Nalia being the only one to get a tent. When Duncan had returned to the Warden compound back in Denerim, he had calmly explained to his group something of Nalia's circumstances.

" _I have the utmost faith in Nalia's skills." Duncan had gathered everyone present in order to talk with them before they left. "However, having said that, trauma is never easily dealt with. I would please ask that all of you give her time, and please do not push her to divulge anything she is not comfortable discussing."_

Avoiding the possibility of bringing up bad memories was rather easy, given that Nalia had retreated to her tent the moment it had been set up. The Wardens divided up the night watch, and then food was dished out.

Mora sat at one of the less populated campfires, eating her rations. They were better than she was used to, although based on how the Wardens seemed to treat the food, it was among the less appetizing of surfacer foods.

Then again, with her life, she doubted her concepts of 'good food' quite matched up with anyone who wasn't as poor as a slum rat. Daren, over on the other side of the camp, probably liked the food about as much as the Wardens did.

"Hey, good to see a familiar face!" Mora looked up at the new arrival. A human with short dark hair and lean features grinned at her, setting himself down beside her with his own food in hand. Mora vaguely recognized him as the other new recruit that Duncan had picked up in Denerim, some random pickpocket that the Commander had seen potential in.

"No idea who you are," she told the odd human, turning back to her food.

"Well, obviously," he responded cheekily. "Me, a human from Denerim, and you a dwarf from… well, wherever you're from. Some Dwarven city, I would assume." Mora shot him a deadpan look, wondering why the man was still talking at her. "But I know a common soul when I see one."

The man's grin seemed to darken for a moment. "After all, having to fight for every meal leaves its mark, yeah?"

Mora narrowed her eyes, but didn't respond.

Completely ignoring the fact that his conversation partner wasn't participating at all, the dark-haired man continued in his previous light-hearted tone. "I didn't expect to find another person with a similar background, so I had to come over and introduce myself. Daveth, at your service! And may I know your name, my good lady?"

"…Mora." She considered not giving her name at all, but given the fact that he'd already said at least five words for her every one, Mora doubted that the man would leave her alone if she ignored him.

In fact, it likely would encourage him.

"Mora. Well, I fear I'm more tired than I'd like tonight, but given the amount of time we have yet to travel, I look forward to sharing stories with you." Daveth had the audacity to wink at her after saying this.

"No thanks." She returned her attention to the remnants of her dinner. "None of my stories are exactly nice."

Even without looking up, Mora could tell that a shadow had passed over Daveth's face again. "No stories from the slums are free of an ugly side, not even the happier ones. But it doesn't mean they're not worth sharing."

The dwarven woman was compelled to look up again at Daveth's face. There was something in his eyes, nothing Mora could name, that made her realize that even if he hadn't grown up with the Carta, his life hadn't been much better than hers. Whatever pain and struggles she had gone through, he had lived a similar life.

"…Whatever. You wanna hear about how fucked up the Carta was, then might as well." Daveth flashed a grin at her. She replied with a scowl.

"Well then, I look forward to our talks – ah, it looks like the little elf girl's finally venturing out of the tent."

Mora looked over to see that the man was right. Nalia had just exited her tent, looking torn between determination and fear. The elven woman walked around with a rigid posture, but anytime someone moved at the corner of her gaze, Nalia would flinch and stumble. Not long after, however, she would return to her determined march.

It didn't take long for the woman to find who she was looking for, and in front of a small group of other Wardens, Nalia gingerly sat herself down in front of Duncan.

The man was surprised to see Nalia willingly venturing among the Wardens, given the higher number of men among them. "Is there something I can help you with, Nalia?"

Her voice wavered, showing her obvious discomfort among the group of mostly-male humans, but Nalia had no hesitation in speaking up. "You never truly answered why you came to the Alienage. I want to know why."

Duncan raised an eyebrow. Out of all the questions he had expected – perhaps about the status of elves among the Wardens, or just general queries about how the Wardens functioned – this topic had not even crossed his mind. "Is this truly so important?" He saw Nalia's eyes flash in anger, and held up a hand before she said anything. "I intend to answer, I assure you. I simply wish to understand why you wish to know."

Nalia wrapped her arms around herself, and her breathing tightened. From what Duncan could tell, she wasn't aware of her movements. "Shem don't come into the Alienage unless they want something. If Vaughan hadn't wanted-" and here, Nalia's voice broke slightly, stopping before she continued, "he never would have gotten anywhere near the Alienage. But you walked right in, not a care in the world. You didn't do anything to anyone. You knew Valendrian. And when… when it happened, you gave weapons to Soris and- and Nelaros." Nalia closed her eyes, and for a moment, she started shaking. Duncan almost reached out to her, almost told her that there was no need to think about it, but before he could, the woman's eyes were open and she was talking again.

"If you hadn't been there, my fate would likely have been sealed. And I won't attribute that to luck, or fate, or anything of the kind." Her arms fell to her sides, and Duncan suddenly saw a hardened woman, with no sign of the traumatized girl that he could so easily make out not seconds beforehand.

"I want to know what reason was behind it. I want to know why I'm still here."

The other Wardens there were dead silent, and if Duncan couldn't see them out of the corner of his eye, he would likely have forgotten they were there. In fact, he was positive that Nalia had.

Taking a moment to organize his thoughts, Duncan spoke.

"You are right. I did have a reason for being in the Alienage, although the reason may surprise you. But before I tell you, I want to make clear that the events that occurred were in no way what I expected nor what I desired." The Warden Commander waited to continue until Nalia gave him a slow nod, her confusion and suspicion displayed clearly on her face.

"With that being said, my original intention of visiting the Alienage… was to recruit you."

He watched her closely for her reaction. Duncan was worried that Nalia might take it the wrong way, believe that he took advantage of the situation to conscript her into the Grey Wardens.

And she wouldn't be entirely wrong in that case, either. While the circumstances were far from what he would've considered ideal, when the decision was at hand, he chose to recruit only Nalia, to save only her from the guards. Had Soris not willingly gone and hid, if both Nalia and Soris had been found and put under arrest by the guard, it would have been only Nalia that he would have saved.

"…my mother." Duncan was shaken from his thoughts at the quiet words from the elven woman in front of him. "My mother mentioned once that she knew a Grey Warden. That she was considered."

"And both of those things are true," Duncan confirmed. "In fact, I was the one to both meet and consider your mother for recruitment." Despite himself, the man gave a small smile as he thought back to memories of the other elven woman. "Your mother, Adaia, was a highly skilled fighter. I witnessed her take down a man that tried to mug her in mere seconds, disarming him and then utterly demolishing him with his own weapon. She left him sobbing in an alleyway, while she walked away with both his weapon and all of the money he had stolen that day."

Nalia was quiet in front of him, and she seemed to be listening intently so Duncan continued. "It wasn't long before I thought to recruit her into our ranks. The Order of the Grey in Ferelden was, and still is, much smaller than I would like. However, the day that I went to recruit her was the day of her wedding to your father."

"Just like me," Nalia whispered, brow creasing in thought. Duncan gave her a moment, but she didn't speak up. Once again, he continued.

"There was no Blight, and so I saw no reason to take her away from what looked to be a happy life with a loving husband. However, I did my best to keep up with the major events of her life, and heard that she had a child. Now that you are older, I thought that your mother might have passed down her skills. When I met you, I could immediately tell that she had."

"She did. And then she died."

"Yes." Duncan shut his eyes. Even now, some time after her death and even longer since he had truly interacted with the woman, there was still a feeling of loss. "Your mother was a great woman. And from what I have seen, so are you."

Nalia looked up at Duncan, and whatever emotion was in her eyes, he could not make it out. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but no words came out, and she closed it. The woman stood up, and turned to walk away.

One of the Wardens nearby shifted, a simple adjustment of his legs, likely just to become more comfortable. But it drew Nalia's attention, surprised her with the sudden movement, and she froze.

Eyes widened, breathing became unnaturally quick, and Nalia just stared at the man who had moved. Too late, Duncan realized: the man had the same color hair as Vaughan, both of them gingers.

The Warden Commander almost moved in between the two himself, but stopped before he could. He motioned to one of the female Wardens sitting in the group, Vera, who thankfully understood immediately and stood.

Vera moved in front of Nalia, reaching out a hand to grasp the elf's shoulders. "Hey, you're safe now. Everything's okay. You're not there anymore."

Nalia snapped her eyes shut and crumpled to the ground, hands flying up to her head. Her breaths finally slowed down, returning to a more controlled pace as Nalia came back to herself. Vera reached her hand out once Nalia seemed calm again, and the elven woman shakily grabbed it.

Once she was upright again, Nalia took a moment to balance herself, and then quickly made her way back to the tent she was using, staring straight ahead with unusual focus.

Duncan sighed, and looked at his Wardens, especially the man who had triggered Nalia's panic.

"Gregor, it may be prudent for you to keep your distance from Nalia." The man nodded, albeit slightly hesitantly. Duncan gave a wry grin. "I don't mean for you to go out of your way to stay as far away as possible, but simply to keep in mind what happened just now." The next nod was immediate.

While his Wardens returned to their discussions, Duncan's gaze made its way to the tent where he knew Nalia was.

He hoped that she was able to overcome her trauma. Even if it hadn't seemed like it, Duncan knew she was already part of the way there. And the inner strength that he saw in Nalia wouldn't allow her to stop fighting, no matter what.

* * *

There we go. Turned out longer than I thought it would, but I'm not complaining.

Tried to do my best to throw in some of the info about Duncan, his past attempt at recruiting Adaia, and his thoughts about how things went down in Denerim. Given how the story focus wasn't as good during the City Elf origin, hopefully this makes up for it, and you have a better idea of how I'm going to write Nalia in the future.


	10. Ruinous Fate

It was three days after their departure from Denerim that one of the new recruits finally asked the question Duncan had been expecting.

"Commander Duncan, may I ask where our destination is?" Duran was still adjusting to his lack of authority, but adjusting well in Duncan's opinion.

"You may." Duncan waited a beat, giving enough time for the flicker of dissatisfaction to show on Duran's face and then be suppressed. It was a good test of the ex-prince's control. "My answer would be that we are headed to Ostagar, in the south."

"Why there?" Mora asked. She had apparently decided to listen in when she saw Duran approach their leader. Nalia was close by as well, but seemed to be paying no attention to Duncan and the others.

Duncan would have smiled at the question, but the topic that Mora's question led to was a grim one. "The objective of the Wardens in Orzammar was to scout the Deep Roads. This is because there is a Blight coming."

The reactions from the recruits were varied. Daren's brow furrowed, and Nalia – who apparently had been listening to the conversation – paled at the news. Mora, in stark contrast, just raised an eyebrow.

"A what?"

Duncan turned towards her. "Ah, I apologize. I had forgotten you would not have learned much about such history. I guess I should explain about the Blight, as well as what the duty of Grey Wardens." Ignoring the slight annoyance that the dwarven woman tried to hide, the Warden Commander began his explanation.

"The mission of the Grey Wardens is to guard against and combat the darkspawn. As such, Grey Wardens act as neutral parties, bound to no nation. That is not to say that we do not cooperate and get along with the various nations of the world, however. It would certainly make our job more difficult if we were not on good terms with the people we are attempting to protect, no?"

Mora cut in. "And a Blight?"

Duncan sighed. She definitely preferred to get to the point. Hopefully, she would learn that even information that wasn't immediately relevant was still useful.

"Blights are… terrible things. Have you heard of the Old Gods of Tevinter?" Surprisingly, even Daren shook his head along with Nalia and Mora. "They were powerful dragons, worshipped by Tevinter long ago. Little is known about what they truly are beyond that, but what is relevant is that they exist." Duncan paused for any questions, and continued when none came his way. "We know the Old Gods exist, buried deep beneath the earth. And the first one was found, hundreds of years ago, by darkspawn. When they found it, when the darkspawn touched it, the Old God awoke… and was infected with the darkspawn taint."

Horrified realization dawned on the faces of Mora and Nalia. "The Archdemons…" Duran gasped out. Duncan nodded grimly. Aware of Mora's confusion, he continued explaining.

"An Archdemon is a foul creature, a corrupted Old God. On their own, darkspawn are mostly unorganized, able to use basic tactics at best, and even then only with a powerful darkspawn commanding a small group. The Archdemon is powerful, and more than that, it is cunning and intelligent. Under the control of an Archdemon, the darkspawn will gather in immense numbers, and their strategies and tactics are on par with our own."

By the end of his explanation, Mora's face had paled, and her jaw was clenched. "And we're up against that now?"

Duncan sighed. "I wish it were not true, but it is. The Grey Wardens have methods of discovering the presence of an awakened Archdemon, and one has been awakened."

"And likely, no one wishes to believe that another Blight is possible, with four centuries having passed since the last." Duncan sighed internally. Duran had quickly pointed out the exact problem that had been plaguing his efforts recently.

"That is precisely what has happened. Thankfully, there are those that have faith in the Grey Wardens, and the increased presence of darkspawn on the surface has at least convinced others that they are a problem that needs to addressed."

"And that's where we're going to, isn't it? Wherever the fight against the darkspawn is happening?" Nalia's input was surprising, given her silence up until that point.

"Exactly." He gave the girl a smile, and she averted her eyes. If Duncan's smile grew more bitter at the sight, no one else seemed to notice. "Between his high regard for the Grey Wardens and the threat of the darkspawn, King Cailan was more than willing to mobilize his forces. After our time in Orzammar, I sent word of where the darkspawn were most likely to surface in large numbers. The stop in Denerim was both for recruitment," he gestured towards Nalia as well as Daveth, who was further behind them talking with other Grey Wardens, "as well to receive any messages Cailan might have sent for us."

Frowning, Mora spoke up. "If the darkspawn haven't come up yet, why did you talk as if they were already attacking on the surface?"

Duncan nodded in approval. "A good question. It is not that the darkspawn have not surfaced, but rather that their true numbers are still waiting. Enough of them have begun wreaking havoc among the southern part of the country, and that has convinced even the more reluctant among Fereldan's nobility that action must be taken."

The woman nodded, accepting the explanation. In contrast, Duran's brow was furrowed. The dwarf opened his mouth to ask a question-

Duncan's head turned toward south quickly, towards the forest they had been walking along, and he frowned. "Darkspawn are nearby."

The other Wardens were reacting as well, while the recruits watched them in confusion.

"Darkspawn? Here? How do you know?" Daren fired questions at Duncan, who was already turning towards the forest.

"An ability that Grey Wardens possess," the Warden Commander replied distractedly. "We can sense darkspawn, with the accuracy depending on both their numbers and distance.

"Darkspawn this far north is worrying. From what I sense, it is no large group, but even a small group can bring devastation. Stopping them is imperative."

With their new purpose in mind, the group turned and ventured into the Brecilian Forest.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

"We sure showed them, didn't we?"

Relden Mahariel rolled his eyes at his friend. "Tamlen, they were _shemlen_. It's not like killing them is any great feat."

Tamlen frowned at his friend. "Well, when you put it that way, it seems no great feat. But by doing so, we've made the forest a better place for the elves, keeping shems like them from ruining it."

"Always looking for a way to make yourself sound better, aren't you?" But Relden was grinning back at his friend. Tamlen slung an arm around Relden's neck, matching his friend's grin.

"Perhaps so, but with only so much excitement in our lives, is it so bad to make everything as exciting as we can?" Tamlen's voice came down to a hush with his next words. "Speaking of excitement, those shems _did_ mention something interesting before they died."

"The ruins?" Relden frowned, ducking out from Tamlen's grip with practiced ease. Smoothing his dark brown locks of hair, he said, "I'm not sure that is such a good idea, Tamlen. Their talk of a demon… It unsettles me."

His friend scoffed. "Come now, Relden, don't tell me you believe that there was a demon? They were just scared shems who lost their nerve. The carvings on this stone they had is far more interesting." Tamlen held up the rock, and both elves were clearly able to see the written elvish engraved into it.

Relden attempted to sound reluctant, but his interest was difficult to hide. "Well, we will need to be careful, and we should inform the Keeper, but the possibility of finding an elvish ruin isn't something easily passed up."

This time, Tamlen was the one rolling his eyes. "The Keeper might be interested in these carvings, but there's not point in telling her anything until we know if there's more or not, and we're already here. Now come on, they said it was to the west."

Relden sighed, but couldn't prevent the small grin on his face. He and Tamlen had been friends their whole lives, and Relden could't remember a time when his friend wasn't jumping into as many adventures as possible. Whether it was hunting, exploring, or even just hanging around their camp, Tamlen always found a way to make everything more exciting… and usually more dangerous, as well.

In no time at all, the pair had found the entrance to the ruins they were looking for. However…

"I don't recall seeing this here before, do you?" Relden frowned. Tamlen's question brought back his worry about the situation.

"No, and that worries me. Tamlen, we should go get the Keeper, or at least Merill!"

To Relden's dismay, his friend just laughed. "Come now, Relden, you worry far too much. There's no point in running back without knowing there's something worth making a fuss over."

"At least be careful, Tamlen." Tamlen went to respond with a grin, but stopped, seeing the seriousness in Relden's eyes. He sighed.

"Always the careful one. Fine, my friend. We will be wary. Now, come!" Tamlen walked forward into the cave, and Relden followed close behind.

They quickly passed through what must have previously been an entrance hall of some sort. Relden looked about the room with uneasy eyes, seeing spider webs filling the corners of the room. Nothing unusual for an abandoned underground ruin, but Relden felt ill at ease.

Many of the hallways were impassable, the ceiling having collapsed and blocked the path with stone and dirt. The pair made their way along the few paths that were clear, Tamlen grinning with excitement while Relden kept moving his gaze about with a frown on his face.

A few minutes in, Tamlen saw a statue in the hallway in front of them. He gasped, and then ran forward. Relden went to follow, and suddenly heard a noise that turned his blood to ice.

"Tamlen, look out!" His friend barely moved in time, and a scrabbling, hairy body flew through the air where the elf had been only just before.

The large spider righted itself with ease, launching itself at Tamlen once again. Without the element of surprise, however, Tamlen was able to draw his sword and skewer the creature easily. Unfortunately, Relden could see more of the spiders swarming, making it impossible to even attempt to escape instead of fight.

"By the Dread Wolf," he cursed under his breath. It didn't help that they were stuck in an intersection of paths, with three directions to guard from. Two warriors would have difficulty guarding in that location. "Tamlen, follow me!"

With his friend's attention, Relden drew his own blades, and then rushed back down the path they had come from. ' _If we can at least stay in a single hallway, it gives us only two groups to guard against. And if the group behind us is eliminated, then the larger group from the two other paths will be more easily managed.'_ Whether or not Tamlen knew what Relden was planning or not, he followed without hesitation, charging at the spiders.

The four spiders immediately began to attack, two leaping directly at Relden and Tamlen. Relden was able to throw himself to the side and dodge, while Tamlen simply skewered his. The other two spiders began spitting globs of some substance at the pair of elves. It splashed against the ground, missing both of them.

"Ah!" Relden winced at a pain in his leg. Looking down, he saw that whatever the spiders spit had splashed up, and a few drops had hit his leg. It burned against his skin. "Tamlen, their spit is acid!"

His friend didn't respond, already going to attack the spitting spiders, but Relden knew his friend had heard. That left Relden with the spider that had missed its leap initially – and was trying again.

Following Tamlen's example, Relden simply moved out of the way and stabbed at the creature while it was in midair. Black ichor spilled out, and when the spider crashed to the ground, its legs waved about in death throes before curling up in a sign of death.

He turned to see that Tamlen had finished off the other two. Good – that left them with no enemies at their back.

Now that their position was secure, it was easy for Tamlen to guard against the spiders that flooded them from the other direction, while Relden switched out his knives for his far more familiar bow. With sword and arrow, it was easy for the pair to finish off the remaining spiders.

"Well, that was certainly exciting."

Relden glared at Tamlen. "If you hadn't decided to rush into that hallway, we wouldn't have had any issue with them." He was even more exasperated when Tamlen just laughed. Both of them made their way past the horde of spider corpses that littered the hallway, returning to the statue that had caught Tamlen's attention.

"You recognize this, don't you?" Tamlen's voice was full of excitement.

"A statue honoring the Creators," Relden murmured in surprise and awe. "Back from when our people lived in Arlathan…"

His friend's tone turned angry for a moment. "Yes, before the shems enslaved us and we lost so much of our lore." Tamlen took a deep breath and then continued. "Anyway, this looks like human architecture, but with a statue of our people. Do you think these ruins truly date back to the time of Arlathan?"

Relden looked at his friend, brow furrowed. "This forest is nowhere near Arlathan, and a statue of our people being in a shem creation means nothing."

"But look!" Tamlen pointed to the base of the statue. "It isn't something that could have been taken and moved here, it was built in this place. Even if the elves didn't live here, its architects knew of our gods."

"And it still means nothing," Relden replied, biting out his words. "Shems have done nothing but evil to our people, and a statue in shem ruins does not change that."

There was no response from Tamlen, and Relden's anger disappeared.

"Tamlen, I apologize. You did not deserve that outburst."

He received a small grin from his friend. "Think nothing of it. I know where your anger points, and that it is not at me." Given Tamlen's personality, the elf immediately moved on. "Now, let's look through the rest of the ruin. If you truly think the Keeper should look at this, we should at least know where anything important is, no?"

Relden smiled at his friend, thankful for his understanding. He didn't thank Tamlen out loud, but he knew the other understood without anything said. "If you insist. Let us see what else this place has to offer!"

XXXXXXXXXXXX

They stared.

Their reflections stared back.

"What do you think it is, Tamlen?" Relden whispered. He didn't know why – other than another group of spiders, they hadn't encountered any other life in the ruin.

"Besides a mirror? I don't know, but it's beautiful, isn't it?" There was something in Tamlen's voice that worried Relden, but he brushed it off. His friend might be reckless at times, but there was no harm in being interested in a mirror. "I wonder what it says?"

"Unless you've been taking secret lessons with the Keeper, I doubt we are going to find out," Relden deadpanned at his friend.

Tamlen sighed. "Odd that it isn't broken like everything else here, though. With how old this ruin must be, some scavengers must have made it in here at some point, right?"

"Odd indeed."

Suddenly, Tamlen gasped, leaning forward. "Did you see that?" He asked fervently. "I think something moved inside the mirror!"

Once again, Relden heard a fervent tone in Tamlen's voice, and this time he didn't dismiss the worry it brought. "Tamlen, I think we should leave the mirror alone…"

"I just want to know what it is," his friend said dismissively. "Don't you see it? There it is again!" Tamlen stepped toward the mirror as if in a trance. "Can you feel that? I think it knows we're here. I just need to take a closer look…"

Relden's blood ran cold. If Tamlen was feeling some presence in the mirror, then that meant there was some magic involved. And if that presence wanted Tamlen to go to the mirror…

"Tamlen, no!" Relden leapt forward, grabbing his friend's wrist to yank him backward. But Tamlen was stuck in front of the mirror, staring into it as the glass began to swirl with unearthly light.

"It's showing me places, I can see some kind of city, underground, a great blackness," Tamlen babbled, even as Relden tried to pull him away. "It- it saw me, Relden! I can't look away!"

"Hold on, Tamlen!"

The light from the mirror intensified, shining and shining until Relden could see nothing but light-

And then everything turned to black.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

" _Can you hear me? I am… very sorry."_

* * *

And I'm a week late… Whoops.

I really have no excuse, except that I am terrible at simply sitting down and doing something.

But here we are! I started the chapter off with Duncan and the recruits, since I wanted to give a small explanation of why Duncan was going around to the places he was. Hopefully it was somewhat believable… especially since we still have a few Origins left to cover.

Now we meet Relden Mahariel, elf of the Dalish clans. I know that I not only took a lot from the original script, but also cut out parts of the ruins, but I intend for the next part to have more unique dialogue – mostly because I'm not even going to look at the actual script for anything besides Relden talking to the Keeper.

With all luck, the next chapter will be up either on time for next week's update, or possibly early to make up for missing a week!


	11. The Darkness Below

Consciousness returned to Relden slowly.

With a groan, he managed to crack open his eyes. It took Relden a moment to realize he was laying down. When he did, the elf attempted to raise himself up on his arms, only to slam back down when they gave way out of weakness.

' _What happened to me?'_ Relden wondered. His head felt clouded, as if his thoughts were buried and had to be unearthed one by one.

He heard the noise of something – canvas? – shifting, and then a voice spoke up.

"You're awake! Thank the Creators!" Relden turned his head to face whoever had come in, noticing as he did that he was in one of the aravels, the caravans that the clan used as homes and transportation.

"Fenarel," Relden greeted his fellow clan member and hunter. "What happened? I… I fear I cannot remember how I got here."

Silence. And then.

"Relden… You were brought back to camp by Grey Wardens." Fenarel's face was filled with worry. "The Keeper and the Wardens secluded themselves with you for half a day. It has been two days since then. We feared you wouldn't wake at all."

"I… I can't remember any of that," Relden admitted. "I only remember that I was out with Tamlen, and… Tamlen!" The realization struck Relden like lightning. "What happened to Tamlen? Was he afflicted with whatever I was as well?"

Fenarel shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flickering away from Relden. "When the Wardens arrived, they brought only you." He continued hastily before Relden could say anything. "Most of the hunters are out looking for him, though!"

Relden tried to raise himself up again, this time managing to get himself into a sitting position. "I have to go help search."

"What? Relden, you are in no shape to be going out anywhere, much less searching for Tamlen." Fenarel frowned at him. "The Keeper wanted to see you once you woke up. I would go and fetch her, but now I'm not sure I can trust you to stay put while I do so."

"Then it is good that you will not have to."

Fenarel turned, seeming relieved. "Keeper, it is good to see you. Perhaps you can keep Relden from being foolish."

The silver-haired woman smiled at Fenarel. "We shall see." As Fenarel left the aravel, the Keeper turned to face Relden.

While Relden would have ignored Fenarel and gone to search for Tamlen, he could not – would not do so, if Keeper Marethari told him to stay. Relden was not her apprentice, he had no skill in magic, but the Keeper had been a guardian and caretaker for him, beyond the normal care of a Keeper for their clan. And so Relden held a greater respect for Marethari than simply respect for the Keeper of the clan.

"It is fortunate that Duncan found you when he did. I know not what dark power held you, but it nearly bled the life from you. It was difficult even for my magic to keep you alive."

The idea that he came so close to death was not something Relden wished to think about. His next thought was even worse.

"Keeper, what if Tamlen is sick as well?" The lack of surprise and grim expression on Keeper Marethari's face told Relden that she had thought of the possibility already.

"If he encountered the same thing you did, yes. But the Grey Wardens said they found you alone outside of a cave, already stricken."

Relden ran a hand through his hair, wincing as his fingers caught on snarls. It took him a moment to try and find a way to phrase his request. "Keeper Marethari, please. I need to go find Tamlen. Whatever happened to him, I should have helped him. If I survived, then surely he has as well." The Keeper gave Relden a look that he couldn't identify, and shook her head.

"Da'len, the affliction that took you was a grave one. Even with my magic, your life was at risk from it. If Tamlen has been struck by the same illness-"

"Keeper, please." Relden didn't look at her, keeping his eyes cast downward. "I need to find him."

She sighed. "Very well. There are things I must ask of you before you go, however. Duncan thought there may have been darkspawn inside of the cave. Is this true?"

"What do darkspawn look like?" The name sounded familiar, but these 'darkspawn' were no creature that Relden had seen before.

"Like a man, but dark and tainted with evil. Perhaps you fought one in the cave and it wounded you."

Relden shook his head. "My memories of what happened in the cave are still not entirely clear, but I do not remember any such creatures. The only thing I remember us finding were spiders."

"Is there nothing else you remember encountering in the ruins?" The Keeper looked at him, as if trying to impart the importance of her question with her gaze.

Unfortunately, Relden could give her nothing with his memory as lacking as it was. "I am sorry, Keeper. I swear, if I remembered anything else, I would tell you."

Marethari sighed. "I had hoped for answers once you woke, but instead all we have are questions." She stepped towards Relden, and met his eyes. In her eyes, Relden could see the same determination and worry that gripped his heart.

"If Tamlen is as sick as you were, then he is in grave condition. Duncan and his Wardens left to go investigate the cave as soon as you were stable, but in the chaos of your arrival, none thought to have him give the location of it. You are the only one who knows how to get there, da'len."

Relden met the Keeper's gaze with his own. "I will find Tamlen and bring him back, Keeper."

A small smile formed on Keeper Marethari's face. "Take Merrill with you, and go swiftly," she told him. "I must remain here. I have ordered the clan to pack the camp so that we can go north. With what has happened, and what is to come, it is too dangerous to remain."

She left to go take care of her duties, and Relden went to find Merrill.

"Relden!" Fenarel approached, worry etched onto his face. "I wish to help search for Tamlen."

"It will be dangerous. Whatever caused me to fall ill, and whatever is preventing Tamlen from returning, could easily find you as its next target." Relden warned his fellow elf. Another hunter joining their search would be helpful, but they were dealing with unknown dangers.

Fenarel seemed determined despite the warning. "If I can help find Tamlen, then the risk is worth it."

After a moment of hesitation, Relden told him, "Go ask the Keeper. If she approves, then you may join."

Fenarel nodded, and immediately ran off to find Keeper Marethari. Relden went to continue his search for Merrill, only to find her waiting at a nearby aravel.

Merrill was the Keeper's apprentice, her Second. She was taught lore, customs, and everything else she needed in order to become the next Keeper after Marethari.

She didn't waste any time on pleasantries. "The Keeper said I'm to accompany you back to the caves to search for Tamlen. If there's some clue that you might miss, perhaps I can find it as her apprentice. And if…" Merrill wavered, but then continued in a stronger voice. "When we find Tamlen, I can help take care of him until we return and the Keeper can tend to him."

Relden nodded at her. "Very well. Fenarel wishes to come along as well, but is asking permission from the Keeper. We will wait for a short time, but if-"

He cut himself off as Fenarel ran up to them.

"The Keeper has given me permission. Let's go." Relden gave a small smile.

* * *

The ruin was not easy to find. The more Relden tried to focus on how he and Tamlen had reached it before, the more the details seemed to flee from his mind. His memory failing him like this worried Relden, but with Tamlen possibly in danger every moment before they found him, there was no time to deal with it. Once Tamlen was safe, Relden could bring it up with the Keeper.

Through a combination of what little Relden could remember and following the signs of passage left by what only could have been the Grey Wardens, the trio was able to reach the ruins.

"There is something unsettling about this place," Merrill murmured uneasily. Fenarel scoffed.

"They are only ruins. Now come, Tamlen may be inside." He strode down towards the entrance, Relden and Merrill hurrying to catch up with him.

Relden would have preferred to move slowly through the ruin. When he and Tamlen had come through the ruins, a nest of giant spiders had attacked them. With these… darkspawn creatures, whatever they truly were, showing up in the area, Relden worried what they might encounter.

"Fenarel, we don't know what's in here. Perhaps we should move more carefully."

"With every moment we spend taking our time, Tamlen could be getting worse!"

Fenarel's words struck Relden. If he had to choose between his own safety and saving Tamlen, the choice was obvious.

"You're right," he agreed grimly, quickening his pace. Unsheathing his knives, Relden took the lead, trying to remember the turns that he took previously.

It took them minutes – what felt like far too long, especially after Fenarel's reminder of what was at stake – to reach the odd statue from before. The hallway before was filled with the corpses of giant spiders

Merrill gasped. It was difficult to make out, since she was breathing heavily from trying to keep up with the two more fit hunters.

"That statue – it's a statue honoring one of the Creators! What is it doing in a human ruin?" Merrill stepped up to examine the figure closely, as if trying to discern the reasoning behind its presence. "I wonder if this ruin dates back to the time of Arlathan, if a statue like this exists here…"

"This forest is nowhere near Arlathan, and a statue of our people being in a shem creation means nothing." The moment he said the words, Relden frowned. It was too familiar, as if he'd heard it or even said it before. He shook his head, sending strands of hair whipping about, and ignored the feeling. Continuing, he added, "Even if this ruin was important, we are here for Tamlen."

Merrill looked down to the floor abruptly, wringing her hands. "Oh! I'm sorry. You're right."

Besides a nod, Relden didn't acknowledge Merrill's response. Instead, he looked down the two paths from the statue, trying to remember which he and Tamlen had turned down before. He decided on the left after a moment, and motioned for the other two to follow him.

The hallway led into an open room, and Relden walked in, head turning to see where the other paths were.

It was the only thing that kept him from being beheaded.

When he turned his head, Relden caught movement out of the corner of his eyes, and immediately ducked. A curved blade sliced through the air where his neck had been, and the elf heard a guttural growl from the direction it had come from.

"Enemies!" He snapped out, warning Fenarel and Merrill. Relden looked at his opponent, and faltered for a brief second.

The creature was some terrifying mockery of a person, with shriveled and discolored skin. It wore bloodstained armor, and its head was completely void of hair. The weapon it had swung at Relden was a curved sword that looked to be in some disrepair, the metal dull and scratched.

Relden only paused to revolt at his enemy's appearance for the slightest of moments, and then he moved. Pushing himself forward while still remaining crouched from his earlier dodge, one of the knives in his hands flashed upward at the hand holding the weapon. When the creature moved its weapon to prevent that, Relden stabbed his other knife up into the creature's throat.

It staggered backward, and Relden followed up by plunging the second knife into the thing's neck as well. The blood that came out was vile, more like sludge than blood and darker than it should have been if the darkspawn was anything like an elf or human.

Yanking his knives out of his foe's corpse, Relden turned his eyes to the rest of the room to see Fenarel and Merrill fending off two more darkspawn.

Fenarel was fighting both at once with his sword and shield, deflecting and avoiding what blows he could while searching for opportunities to attack in return.

Merrill was his support, casting spells to distract and entangle the darkspawn. The vines on the walls came to life, throwing themselves at the two creatures to stop them from attacking Fenarel, and the stone beneath their feet formed itself into spikes that shot up at them.

One of the thing's blades crashed into Fenarel's shield, and he staggered back with a curse on his lips. The other attempted to take advantage, but a stone spike from below forced it backwards instead.

By the time the first darkspawn could attack Fenarel again, the elf had recovered, and was able to deflect the attack with his shield. With the darkspawn being the one caught off guard this time, Fenarel followed up and beheaded it.

An arrow felled the other as it charged at Fenarel, and the two turned to face Relden, who had drawn his bow and fired.

Cleaning his knives, Relden frowned. "These must be the darkspawn the Keeper was talking about. If they are here, we must find Tamlen quickly."

"Right!" Fenarel and Merrill responded in unison, and when Relden figured out which path was the correct one, the two followed close behind. This time, despite knowing the importance of finding Tamlen, their pace was slower, Relden and Fenarel constantly looking about to spot any lurking enemies.

There was only one other encounter with darkspawn along the way, and the two were quickly dispatched by Relden and Fenarel. Without the element of surprise, Relden was easily able to use his arrows to take them out while Fenarel kept their attention.

Eventually, the trio made their way as far as Relden remembered going. The path ended in front of an open room, and they entered.

The people within turned to face them.

"Ah, you are the one we found in front of these ruins. What brings you back here?" The darker-skinned human frowned at him. "Should you not be resting? Your illness was a serious one."

Relden glared at the shem. "And what business is it of yours?"

"Forgive me, I have not introduced myself. I am Duncan, Commander of the Grey Wardens." Relden gritted his teeth. The Keeper had mentioned this human's name along with the Wardens, and had credited them with bringing him back to the clan. Even if the man was a shemlen…

Relden bowed as shallowly as he could. Through clenched teeth, he told Duncan, "Thank you… for saving my life, Duncan of the Grey Wardens." Despite not being able to see them, Relden knew that both Fenarel and Merrill would be staring at him in shock. His hatred of shemlen was well known among their clan, and for him to bow and thank one was something one would only have spoken of in jest.

But in this case, his pride also demanded that he properly thank someone who saved his life for no reward.

Duncan seemed slightly taken aback, but then smiled. "It was the right thing to do. It would have been cruel to leave you as you were, unconscious and ill in front of these ruins."

When Relden remained silent, Fenarel stepped up beside him. "If you don't mind, we are searching for our comrade, Tamlen. We believe this is where he was when he and Relden were separated. Have you seen any sign of him?"

One of the other people in the room scoffed, and all attention fell onto them. It was a dwarven woman, with brunette hair captured in a loose bun on her head except for two strands that framed her face. A tattoo of some symbol was set underneath her right eye.

"One exit, and no body. All tracks out of here are darkspawn." Relden noticed Duncan giving her a sharp look out of the corner of his eye, but ignored it.

"So you're saying that Tamlen could not have been here?" He glared at the dwarven woman. Relden had never met a dwarf before. They mostly kept to themselves, far away in their underground city, but given this one at the moment, Relden wasn't sure they would be any better than humans.

Another dwarf – male, long dark blonde hair and a matching beard – spoke up. "What she likely _meant_ to say," he stared disapprovingly at the woman, "was that there is no sign your companion left this room. Either he never entered, or a fell fate befell him."

Relden hissed out a breath. "I will not believe it," he spoke, and the coldness of his voice was almost a surprise even to himself. "Whatever happened to Tamlen, I was at his side when it occurred. If I survived, then so did he."

Duncan took a step forward, bringing Relden's attention back to him. "If your friend was in the same condition you were, I fear that there is little to be done. Your condition was grave when we found you, and without the aid of your Keeper, you would not be here now."

"And if I refuse to believe you?" Merrill gasped behind him. Duncan looked at him gravely.

"I will not insist that you believe me, but I assure you. If both you and Tamlen came into this room, and he was tainted as you were, there is no way that he could have survived."

Relden went to respond, but a hand on his shoulder distracted him. He turned to see Merrill, who was looking at him worriedly.

"Relden… He's right. If Tamlen had the same illness that you did when you were brought back, there is little chance he survived. Even with the Keeper's aid, there were moments where we weren't sure that _you_ would make it," she told him softly.

"I am sorry," Duncan spoke, not having heard Merrill but knowing what she likely said. "I truly am. But trust me when I say that there is no way that your friend remains alive. The darkspawn are… evil creatures. Even if he had somehow managed to survive the taint for all this time, the darkspawn that were drawn here would not have been so kind."

Relden clenched his fists, staring at the ground. Tamlen couldn't be dead.

… _But Merrill said that even he had barely survived with the Keeper doing her best to save him._

Tamlen, his best friend since childhood, would not have died like this.

 _Whatever sickness he had come down with nearly killed him, and Tamlen had been alone for days._

Tamlen had to be alive.

 _The darkspawn were here for days, with Tamlen at their mercy, and they had attacked Relden immediately_.

Tamlen was dead.

In the background, Relden heard Merrill and Fenarel discussing things with Duncan and his companions. Something about the mirror that stood in the room, and darkspawn.

He didn't care. Tamlen was dead.

Duncan walked towards the mirror, sword raised, and smashed it with the pommel. A blinding burst of light filled the room, and when it cleared, the mirror was in shards.

Tamlen was _dead_.

Merrill and Fenarel walked back towards him as Duncan gave orders to the other Wardens with him.

 _Tamlen_ was dead.

Even as Merrill and Fenarel helped him rise to his feet, Relden felt ill, and he couldn't tell whether it was his condition rearing its head or if it was simply his grief, in the form of a physical ailment.

* * *

Well, I'm a terrible person for taking so long on this.

Sorry!

(I think) I warned you guys at the beginning of this story that I am bad at sitting down and actually getting writing done, especially during the school year. I meant to keep to my schedule, but that did not turn out well.

Hopefully this chapter somewhat makes up for it, but I doubt it.

Updates in the future will try to be consistent, but after this, I doubt they will be. All I can promise is that I will do my best to write and get these out when I can.

Also, to anyone who's wondering why I changed so much of the dialogue:

The stuff with the Keeper in the camp felt dumb. Tamlen is Relden's best friend since childhood, there's no way he would sit around asking the Keeper questions about the Grey Wardens when Tamlen could be in danger. I cut down the dialogues with Fenarel and Merrill for the same reasons – all of them should be anxious to go and save Tamlen.

I tried to throw in some subtle hints about how Relden was being affected, but not sure how well those turned out. Meh.

The dialogue with Duncan, I tried to make somewhat unique. Mora, Daren and Nalia are all there. Nalia is super shy, so she doesn't even get a mention. Neither Mora nor Daren give a crap about this random elf, but Daren at least tries to be somewhat polite about it.

Relden actually breaks down at the idea that Tamlen is dead because… yeah. Best friend since childhood? You don't just go "oh no, I can't believe he's dead" and move on with your life. He's not crying yet, but that's mostly shock. Losing your best friend, especially in this type of situation where you had this desperate hope that he had survived, is super rough.

The explanations about the taint, the darkspawn, and what's happening to Relden will come next chapter. It gets touched on by Duncan, Fenarel and Merrill, as it does in the Origin, but Relden is obviously not paying attention.

Alright. One more Dalish Origin chapter, maybe an interlude, and then we move on.


End file.
